


The World Has Shifted but You’re Still Here

by charlatanauthor, Cryo_Bucky



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: AU where Steve stayed small, Alternate Universe, Bucky Barnes as Captain America, Happy Ending, Kinda, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Period-Typical Homophobia, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes, but also Captain America Steve, haha aou? cw? iw? not in my house, help idk how to do tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-12
Updated: 2018-10-12
Packaged: 2019-07-29 18:24:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16269824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charlatanauthor/pseuds/charlatanauthor, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cryo_Bucky/pseuds/Cryo_Bucky
Summary: For the first time in his life, Steve is presented with the opportunity to help those is need and do it well, so he agrees and Erskine toasts his ‘not a perfect soldier, but a good man’ with some apple schnapps that Steve isn’t allowed to drink.The next day, Steve is to be reborn.But he isn’t.He doesn’t die, nor does he become evil; instead, he walks out of the tube after being zapped and monitored and injected seemingly unchanged. He’s still 5’2 and scrawny as hell, his limbs match-stick thin, and if his heart is pounding powerfully in his ears, well, that’s just the pain talking.Or, an AU in which Steve gets the serum but stays small, Bucky gets the serum and becomes Captain America, and they still end up together happily, seventy-some years later.





	The World Has Shifted but You’re Still Here

The last thing Steve remembers before he blacks out is O'Reiley's fist.

O'Reilley- Jack O'Reilley, the obligatory neighborhood 'I'm gonna steal your lunch money' bully- had been on the hunt when Steve found him cornering some poor boy in a dirty alleyway. It was an act of a genuine, pure-blooded asshole; Tommy, the poor kid that Steve had rushed in to save, would probably agree with Steve even as he bolted. 

Still. Steve's face had met O'Reiley's fist and the rest was history.

When Steve had the misfortune of waking up- which, really, he shouldn’t have, his head was aching - he expected the alley to be empty. Instead, there was a brunette nursing a black eye and bleeding knuckles, maybe Steve's age. Steve had no idea who he was. 

Steve stood up, getting ready for a fight, and the boy responded something between a pout and a scowl.

"Take it easy there. You got beat pretty bad."

Steve gave what was definitely a scowl back.

"I had 'em on the ropes."

The boy smirks and laughs a little, though it doesn’t sound condescending, oddly enough. Steve keeps his guard up anyway. There's a lot he misses in his deaf right ear, and besides, people aren't nice to him. Tolerate him, maybe, but being friendly? No, he's too easy of a target.

The kid hops up and sticks his hand out to Steve.

"I'm sure ya did. The name's Bucky, Bucky Barnes."

Steve should back away, but Jesus, Mary and Joseph this boy seems genuinely kind. 'Sides, his ma always taught him to have manners, so he grabs Bucky's hand and shakes it.

"Steve Rogers. Nice to meet ya, I guess. Can't say I've ever known a Bucky before, though. What kind of name is Bucky?"

And there go his manners. Bucky seems to just be tryin' to be nice and Steve says that? No wonder Steve has no friends.

And yet Bucky surprises Steve again by laughing again, louder this time. Steve decided he really liked it when Bucky smiles. It seemed to brighten the alleyway.

"It's James Buchanan Barnes, actually. But no one calls me that, 'specially not my friends."

"I'm your friend?"

"You are now. Anyone willing to take on O'Reilley is a friend of mine. Now then, where do ya live?"

Steve paled. His living situation was infamous, with his single working mother and missing father and deteriorating health...

"Up in Red Hook. Why're ya asking?" He braced himself for the look of disgust, disappointment maybe. Instead, Bucky brightened further. 

"Cause I do too, and I can't let ya walk home all beaten up like that. Now c'mon, let's get ya home."

Before Steve could object, Bucky slung his arm around Steve’s neck and began dragging Steve towards Steve’s neighborhood. Their neighborhood, he realizes. It’s nice, knowing someone kind is nearby. 

Soon, the dragging turned to walking and the sputtered choking (Bucky has slung his arm a little too tight for Steve’s asthma’s liking) had turned to pleasant laughter. Buck was a real funny guy, all quick humor that goes well with Steve’s instinctive snap-backs, which he takes in stride like no one else Steve has ever known has. By the time Steve was at the door of his and his mother’s cheap apartment, he didn’t want to say goodbye. His time with Bucky was enjoyable in a comfortable sort of way that Steve really hadn’t ever known with anyone except his ma. 

Steve opened the door to the apartment reluctantly, and his ma rushed out, frightened. She takes in the state of Steve’s knees and knuckles and face with disapproval. Steve knows what’s coming.

“Steven Grant Rogers, what have you done?”

Steve steps back, chagrined.

“O’Reiley was at it again, ma. He was beatin’ on Tommy from school, tryin’ to steal his lunch money, but Tommy really doesn’t have any to spare so I stepped in, that’s all. Someone had to, but no one else was.”

It’s an old, worn argument, that no one else stepped in. Of course not- no one cares if little Tommy walks away with empty pockets and a black eye because it’s not them. Everyone seems to expect help when they’re in trouble but unwilling to give any when they’re not, which is wrong, Steve thinks. Bullies are bad no matter who they bully, that’s just fact, and if he can take some bruises for another guy he will, even if his ma’s face always falls when she sees his injuries. She understands. That’s why the old argument always wins, always ends with Steve’s ma cracking open the well-worn first aid kit with a sigh and a small, proud smile that she won’t admit is there.

That’s how it normally ends, anyway, except normally Bucky isn’t there. Bucky, who apparently feels the need to defend Steve against his own ma, piping up from outside the door.

“It’s true, Mrs. Rogers, it’s true. I found Steve there in the alley after Tommy ran away, getting’ beat by O’Reiley and smilin’ about it. He’s a real brave guy, Steve is, saw Tommy runnin’ away without a scratch. Steve did a real good thing, honest.”

Steve’s ma looks around Steve to see Bucky, and smiles this beautiful smile that Steve only rarely sees, and Steve wonders if Bucky is actually an angel.

“Steve, who is this?” Steve’s ma asks warmly. Steve steps aside so Bucky can come in, and flushes a little when he sees Bucky survey the tiny apartment.

“Ah, ma, this is Bucky. I woke up in the alley after O’Reilley hit me and he was there. He helped me up and brought me here, made sure I was okay. He’s real nice.”

Steve’s ma glances to Bucky’s knuckles, filling in the blanks, and smiles again before going to fetch the first aid kit. 

“Well Bucky, you can stay here a let me patch you up as thanks for helping my little Steve out. Anyone willing to fight for him deserves nothing but the best.” Bucky smiles, and Steve notices a tooth missing right in the front as well as a deep-cut just above his lip. Hopefully they’re not because of him.

“Aw, thanks, but I gotta go. I’m already late for supper and my ma will be real mad if I miss it.” Steve’s ma looks as disappointed as Steve feels.

“Well, you are welcome any time. Lord only knows Steve needs a friend other than a first aid kit.” Steve blushes, Bucky laughs, and Steve blushes a little more. Stupid Irish complexion. 

“Alright. I live nearby, so I should see Steve around.” Bucky turns, then pauses. “Hey, we should go to the same school, right? I’ll see you there?” 

“Yeah,” Steve whispers. “Yeah, I should. I hope to.” Bucky hears him anyway, facing out the door though he is, and waves. 

“Okay, see ya. Nice to meet ya, Steve.” With that, he finally goes. Steve didn’t realize how much he had wanted Bucky to stay and talk until he finds himself staring at the door long after Bucky closes it behind him. He’s only broken out his thoughts when his ma finally makes him sit down so she can attend to him properly. When he looks up, he sees his ma beaming at him. He asks why. His ma looks at him with knowing eyes and says,

“Steve, I think you have made a very good friend.”

Bucky was, in fact, a fantastic friend. They finally met up at school, and once Steve explained why they had never seen each other before (he was very sick very often), the two became inseparable. Everywhere Steve went, Bucky went, and every fight Steve started, Bucky finished. They made a fearsome if unlikely duo and stuck together like glue throughout the years. 

Steve was a little in awe of Bucky’s loyalty, if he had to be honest. Bucky was flawless in his eyes, and in the eyes of just about everyone else. While Steve barely grew, stayed skinny and weak with an attitude three times his size, Bucky became the neighborhood sweetheart: tall, strong, charming, and, most importantly, a smooth-talker. Bucky was as slick as anyone, making him the top choice for the boys’ baseball teams and girls’ gossip and the role model that all adults presented to their boys.

And even if only Steve knows that Bucky is a devious little shit who may have put the worm in the Communion wine for Father O’Malley to choke on, well, Bucky is still too good for Steve. Bucky isn’t even Catholic.

But he stays. He stays through every stupid fight, every winter sickness threatening to put Steve down for good, every asthma attack from Steve’s useless lungs, he always stays. Lord only knows that Bucky could easily do better and yet he chooses Steve, which starts to do stupid things to Steve as time passes. One day, when he’s ten, Steve tracks a bead of sweat down Bucky’s collar after being forced to sit out of a baseball game and feels his heart flutter. He already has a heart murmur, and the stupid thing already couldn’t beat quite right, but that was like neither. Another time, it’s pouring, and they don’t make it to Bucky’s home (Steve has since been welcomed thoroughly by the Barnes) before getting completely soaked, so Bucky goes to change, and when his shirt comes off Steve’s stomach does a weird flip.

And then it happens again. And again. By the time Steve works up the nerve to ask his ma about it, though, it’s too late. One day when he’s fourteen and has had these feelings for years he comes home to a notice nailed on his door. Steve doesn’t read most of it, but he doesn’t need to: after _tuberculosis ward_ and _Sarah Rogers_ and a premature _We’re sorry for your loss_ Steve has the picture. He’s not even allowed to visit her before he dies, not with his bad lungs and heart and everything. The next time her sees her is in a coffin two weeks later, dressed in his late pa’s suit (the nicest thing he has), with Bucky patting him on the back while Mrs. Barnes and Bucky’s younger sister Becca cry. 

The Barnes can’t offer him a home for all that Bucky tries to convince them, so Steve decides to drop school to take the job that the kind Mr. Amberg offers him painting signs. Reluctantly, he sells the last of his mother’s things- some nice dresses and unnecessary furniture- to keep the rent on the apartment for a few more months. The landlord gives him a deal, but Steve knows that with his health expenses money will run dry eventually and he will have to move.

Then Bucky moves in, and all the things he regrets not asking his mother about coming rushing back. He couldn’t stop Bucky, though, never; the man’s as stubborn and loyal as Steve, and once he found out Steve was looking at moldy apartments he showed up at Steve’s doorstep with his bags and an offer to split rent. Besides, Steve is real attached to this apartment and the memories of his ma here. 

Still, living with Bucky causes Steve to feel strange. By the time he’s fifteen, Steve realizes that it’s not so much a physical illness around Bucky as a mental one. Steve’s no stranger to the idea of queers- hell, in this neighborhood there are five bars nearby and three are queer- but having grown up a typical Irish Catholic boy his conscience screams at him. If Bucky found this out, Bucky who’s stayed with Steve through thick and thin, he would leave Steve. Steve wouldn’t blame him either; homosexuality is wrong, a sin, and even if some girls make Steve a little hot under the collar too there’s no denying what he feels for Bucky, and there’s no doubt Bucky would be disgusted.

And even if he weren’t, Steve reasons, there is no way his feelings would ever be returned. Since Bucky was fourteen Bucky’s come to realize how girls feel about him and takes full advantage, bringing Steve home a girl every month or so before a new dame catches his eye. That’s not even mentioning the times Steve has caught Bucky drunk after his work at the docks with his hand almost literally up dame’s skirt. Buck’s been doing dames since he knew what sex was, and Steve… Steve doesn’t have the parts to satisfy that, no rouged lips nor anything else. So Steve shoves his feelings down, ignores them just like any other illness he’s had over the years. 

That doesn’t mean Steve doesn’t indulge, though. Whenever Steve’s bedridden and can’t do his normal work he draws, hoping maybe to sell a piece or two, and Bucky is a common subject. His most common sellers are blue art pieces for the boys at the docks and the queers nearby, both of which are quite fond of nude or other risqué drawings that he may or may not practice with Bucky. He can try to justify it to himself, arguing that he just wants a familiar subject to practice a new technique or that it’s not his fault that even objectively Bucky is an attractive man and a more attractive subject, but what it boils down to is that he loves having a piece of Bucky near and the ability to imagine what cannot be. Sometimes, very late at night when there’s no doubt the Bucky’s chasing skirt (and has likely gotten some), it’s not uncommon for his eyes to wander to his sketchbooks and his hand to wander down… but it’s something he would never act on, not in a million years. Steve may not be happy with the way things are but he’s content; everything is stable and regular in a way that he had forgotten for a while, and life is peaceful.

And then the war hits. Chaos reigns in Europe and the East, megalomaniacs are the leaders of countries, and as of December 7th, 1941, -a day that shall live on in infamy, Mr. Roosevelt had said- America has joined the war and all men fit enough to enlist are either highly encouraged to do so or simply drafted. Bucky, ever the ideal man, does enlist and makes it with a beautiful 1A stamp on his papers. Steve, though ever a fighter (and unwilling to let Buck be put in danger, he won’t let Buck die alone), is constantly rejected no matter the place: Brooklynn, Queens, Manhattan, even New Jersey give him a bold, glaring 4F on his enlistment forms. Bucky finds out the second time and gets angry, but Steve doesn’t stop trying, for Bucky’s sake as much as his own. Truly, that’s the heart and soul of it; he would die for Bucky one million times over, and if his bum heart takes a bullet meant for an innocent person (Bucky, always Bucky), then Steve could die a happy man. The army doesn’t see determination on his forms, though, just his asthma and murmur and scoliosis and every other physical problem, and no matter how he tries, he can’t get in.

Time runs out the day Bucky comes back from Basic. Somehow, in the time he was gone, he’s made Sargent, something that relieves Steve greatly; the higher Bucky gets, the less likely he is to die, and Steve has always known Bucky was meant for greatness (yet another reason why Steve shouldn’t poison him with his illness). Steve’s still not in and will likely never be, so when Bucky offers to show him the future at Stark’s Expo he pretends like his heart doesn’t leap (even with the awkward double date pinned on) and agrees to go. Steve, if he must be honest, doesn’t much care about the tech itself -that’s always been Bucky’s schtick, reading dime sci-fi novels late at night- but Bucky’s happy so so is he for just this night.

And then the incredible happens. While wandering around, having detached from Bucky after the disaster with Stark’s flying car, Steve meets a man who can see what the army never saw: his determination. The man names himself Dr. Erskine and offers Steve a chance at everything Steve could ever want: the opportunity to serve, so Steve agrees to meet with him, to go with whatever Erskine’s playing at. In Steve’s mind, if he can help anyone, if he can help Bucky, whatever Steve has to sacrifice will be worth it. The next day, when Bucky leaves for Europe and has to say goodbye to everything he’s ever known, Steve actually has hope. 

Soon, Steve is presented with some papers shining with the same 1A stamp Bucky had gotten and a trip to Camp Lehigh. Even among the men there, all of whom had been rejected from the military for one reason or another, Steve is weak. Colonel Phillips clearly has very little faith in him, but Steve thankfully has Erskine and a beautiful Agent Carter on his side, so he isn’t dropped immediately. His time comes when his self-sacrificing nature tosses him onto a faux grenade to shield the other soldiers, a move Steve is certain will have him booted but instead wins him the full approval of Erskine, who informs him of the purpose of the camp. For the first time in his life, Steve is presented with the opportunity to help those is need and do it well, so he agrees and Erskine toasts his ‘not a perfect soldier, but a good man’ with some apple schnapps that Steve isn’t allowed to drink. The next day, Steve is to be reborn.

But he isn’t. He doesn’t die, nor does he become evil; instead, he walks out of the tube after being zapped and monitored and injected seemingly unchanged. He’s still 5’2 and scrawny as hell, his limbs match-stick thin, and if his heart is pounding powerfully in his ears, well, that’s just the pain talking. Even so, it seems, the serum’s formula is desirable, and Erskine dies a man who, to all those around him, simply chased a dream and accomplished nothing. It makes Steve sad, that such a good man would die for something that doesn’t matter, but he’s too busy heaving in breaths to properly mourn. He goes to chase the shooter as his sadness turns to anger, but he’s held back, told he’ll get in the way at worst and die at best. Agent Carter goes instead, and Steve knows when he’s not needed. Not wanting to be a disappointment nor a living reminder of how Erskine died in vain, Steve sneaks out. In the panic, no one stops him.

A week later he’s notified that his forged army approval has been destroyed, but Steve knew this. Hoping that maybe the serum had done anything for him at all, he had rushed to another enlistment station, and while he got farther than before (the doctor likely had been lazy- he had said nothing after listening to Steve’s lungs and even complimented Steve’s heart), he was still booted, too small to be of any use. Still, Steve wants to do his part, and one day on the way home from his newest job he overheard an official discussing a need for posters. Steve rushed home, made his best damn poster, handed it to the official, and had gotten a job helping people Bucky get his ammo all the way in Europe. It was a safe job for someone like Steve, small and always sick, and a genuine help to the war effort. For the first time since Bucky left, Steve feels content.

A few months pass and Steve cranks out poster after poster, blessedly not catching anything nor having any attacks, but over time the number of designs that are asked of him for bond posters go down. Steve, having heard of the news in Europe and the Pacific Theater, knows it isn’t because the war is coming to an end. In anything, it’s gotten worse: Bucky, who last wrote in Austria, stopped responding three weeks and two days ago. Something new must have entered the scene, and Steve prays that this something new is why Bucky’s ma hasn’t received a letter detailing Bucky’s death. As it turns out, the new thing isn’t in Europe but instead, he is told a week later, coming to New York to do a show promoting bond sales. Captain America, they call him, bedecked in star-spangled spandex and dancing with the USO show girls and punching Hitler, the last of which is what they want on the poster. It’s ridiculous, Steve thinks, but so is drawing for a war, and anything helping the troops is helping Bucky, so he’s alright with this guy. They give him a reference and he makes the poster with the time and date, and by the end of making it he’s curious enough that he decides to go. Maybe the guy is like him: stuck on the wrong side of the ocean, wanting to fight but can’t. He can’t imagine someone who would voluntarily be a show monkey like that, so Steve has hopes.

The show itself is all overdramatic and optimistic, filled to the brim with propaganda, but a phrase manages to catch Steve in the heart well enough for him to sneak his way backstage to meet the man. Every bond you buy is a bullet in your best guy’s gun. His mind swims with Bucky as he heads backstage, and he doesn’t realize how far he’s gone back until he runs directly into Captain America himself, who was in the process of undressing.

The cowl falls on the ground and Steve gets a good look at Cap’s face.

The world flips. 

................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................

It’s Bucky, but it can’t be Bucky, last Steve knows of Bucky he’s in Austria leading a raid against HYDRA and hasn’t sent a letter for three weeks and two days…

Hoping against hope, Steve looks at not-Bucky right in the eye and asks,

“Bucky?” He’s about ready to cry when Bucky responds.

“Steve?” There are tears running down Steve’s face at that, but it doesn’t matter, because Bucky is here and safe. Steve runs and hugs him, and runs face first into Bucky’s chest, which is odd because Steve at least came up to his neck before but that doesn’t matter because Bucky is safe. Slowly, Bucky’s arms wrap around him too. They’re strong and thick and heavy like they didn’t use to be. Steve supposes the fighting would do that. He can ask now.

He’s about to ask what Bucky is doing here before Bucky beats him to it, letting him go (Steve tries not to feel pained).

“Why’re ya here, Steve? This kinda show doesn’t seem like your thing.” Bucky says, which reminds Steve that this really isn’t Bucky’s type of thing either. 

“Why’re you here, Bucky, you’re supposed ta be in Europe and instead you’re here dressed like,” Steve gestures to the whole getup and Jesus, Mary and Joseph does Bucky look good in tights, “this? What happened?” Bucky’s expression goes dark, and Steve regrets asking, just a little. Really shouldn’t have looked a gift horse in the mouth.

“A lot of things I’ll tell you and a lot more I can’t. Just know I’m back here for the foreseeable future.” Warning bells go off in Steve’s brain. 

“You can’t, or you won’t?” 

Bucky’s expression tightens further and Steve dreads doing this to him, but Steve needs to know. The Army doesn’t just let people go like that, most especially not someone like Bucky, who made his way to Sergeant in Basic. If Steve knows Bucky is that good with a rifle then so do the higherups, so whatever happened must have been a shitshow for them to give up such an asset. 

“A little bit of both. I’ll tell you what I can, and I mean that literally. A lot of the details are… classified, and even more are things I just don’t want to think about. Believe me Stevie, if I could tell anyone, it would be you.” Steve gulps, and Bucky looks pained. 

“But for now,” Bucky seems to choke out, “I’ll tell you what I can think about, okay? But not here. Even if it’s not confidential, it’s still real secretive stuff, and I’m not quite sure how one of the men Phillip sent over with me would react. Oh, but lemme get changed first. This suit is real tight.” Buck heads off, probably to some dressing room like a famous gal from the pictures, and leaves Steve standing there awkwardly as it all sinks in.

Buck’s actually here, but something awful has happened, something that was bad enough for Bucky to be sent home and for him to not want to tell Steve, even though he’s always told Steve everything. Not that Steve doesn’t understand – he has his secrets too – but Bucky looked haunted, all hollowed out, like Joseph Alpert’s dad did. Joseph said it was the war. War seems to leave a lot of people that way. God, how many people had Bucky seen die?

By the time Steve’s yanked himself out of his thoughts, Bucky’s back in an outfit that’s not covered with stars and stripes they’ve already started out towards the apartment. The walk there is silent and tense in a way it had never been before, back before the war, but once they reach the building some tension seeps from Bucky’s shoulders and his expression loosens. He seems more at peace now. Like he feels safer, maybe.

Steve feels like crying, that Bucky still feels at home here after all he’s been through. Steve unlocks the door and Bucky settles in to the old armchair that he always loved, the one Mrs. Roccario gave to them years and years ago. Steve almost asks if Bucky wants something – a drink, maybe, or even some of the crappy coffee Steve’s scrounged up – but stops. Bucky looks like he’s about to say something, and Steve doesn’t want to stop him, so instead he sits on the raggedy couch and waits. Bucky doesn’t keep him waiting long.

“So, I was recruited to the one-oh-seventh, you know that. And they were a good bunch, real loyal men, and so we kept getting assigned to harder missions. More risky battles to be fought. We always pulled through, though, so they started pushing us out into enemy territory – you should know that too, I wrote you a whole buncha letters. Gabe always used to think I was writin’ to my sweetheart back home, always asked for a picture of her.”

Steve’s heart clenches. He wouldn’t have minded being the sweetheart, really, but that doesn’t matter now. Instead, he asks,

“And then Austria.” Bucky tightens up again, but Steve needs to hear this. Something happened there, he knows it. Bucky sighs.

“And then Austria. While I’m not allowed to tell ya the details, somewhere along the line we started pursuing this specific group, HYDRA. They’re part of the scientific branch of the Nazis but they’re worse, Steve, so much worse. So much worse.” He pauses, shivers, and then continues.

“We were raiding a HYDRA base there in Austria, or at least we were supposed to. The intel wasn’t too bad, they’re weren’t many more than expected, but… they things they had, Stevie. They weren’t guns, they were the scythe of death itself. Once again, I can’t tell you much about them, Steve,” of course he couldn’t, “but just know there isn’t a damn group of men on earth who could be prepared for those things. We had gone in with several other squadrons and were captured with only one or two. Most of my men made it, but it was a one-sided slaughter. We were taken to a factory nearby, a weapons factory. It’s a real slap in the face, Steve, building the same weapons that killed your men. We were kept in cages at night, and people were taken randomly. We never saw them again.”

Steve thinks he knows where this is going, but nods anyway. God, Bucky…

“One night, the goons visit our cage and pick some real tiny kid, the kind you look at and wonder what kinda crack-pot doctor said they were old enough to serve. He couldn’t have been more than sixteen, Steve, so…”

“You stepped in.” Steve already knows this. There’s no way Bucky wouldn’t: though he never picked as many fights as Steve, he hated bullies with equal vigor. He hated the little guy getting picked on too; it’s why he and Steve got on so well. Steve would’ve done the same in Bucky’s place, especially if Bucky was on the chopping block. Again, Steve curses the serum. Maybe he could’ve been there and taken the place of one of those poor men. But Bucky came back, unlike them, and Steve guiltily thanks God that it was Bucky and not one of them.

“I did. They dragged me up into the higher levels of the factory, somewhere we weren’t allowed to be. I heard screamin’ and struggled enough to catch a guy in the nose. Made him bleed real bad, but it didn’t do much in the long run. Might’ve made it worse, actually.

“They strapped me to this steel table, and then,” Bucky stopped. He looked like he was about to cry. Steve got up to go to him, sitting on the arm of the chair and rubbing Bucky’s back. Bucky let out a shuddering hiccup and pulled Steve over. His arms were stronger than Steve remembered, but that was alright. It meant Bucky was at least physically healthy.

“Then I met Dr. Zola. He was, is, the Devil incarnate, Steve, I swear to you he is. No man could do what he did and live with himself.” Bucky is actually crying now, tears streaming down his face as he gasps, fear in his eyes. Steve wants to kill Zola, give him every punishment the world has to offer and put him straight into the pits of hell himself, God’s mercy be damned. People who could make Bucky cry, Bucky, who never once cried after his father hit him or his mother, didn’t deserve forgiveness, not really. 

“I couldn’t understand what he was saying to me, but he was always talking, telling goons to inject me with something else until I couldn’t tell what was real or not. I heard his voice always, always, and heard his pen scratching notes, and everything else was just pain. There were needles and hammers and knives all blended into one pure pain, and the world shrank and the table shrank and the shackles shrank and it was… it was…” Bucky’s heaving now, trying to breathe, and Steve wraps his arms around him, and tells him he could stop, if he wants to. Bucky shakes his head violently.

“One day, I came up from the daze. That happened sometimes, when they brought up someone else who looked promising and couldn’t be bothered with me. I just lied there, looking around, wanting to see what was real while I could, but they left the door open. They left the door open, and I just stared at it into the hallway, not believin’ it.” 

Bucky takes a deep breath. “I guess they thought I wouldn’t be strong enough to break free; I sure didn’t. And then I saw the guards pass, and they had that boy, Steve, they had that boy that I had gone to hell for and I just got so angry and desperate because I had to get to him. I had hung on thinkin’ about how I was keepin’ him safe, but he was up here, being dragged up, so I started yanking on the restraints and they just… broke.” And Steve can picture it, he can, Bucky layin’ there taking everything he could, only to realize his help hadn’t much helped at all, and the anger that would cause. He understands. Bucky continues, 

“I put my arms into it and they just snapped, just like that, and I couldn’t believe it. So I ran out into the hallway and grabbed the boy and ran. Apparently, Zola is a cocky bastard who didn’t think he needed many guards for his prisoners, so I just sprinted down the hallway and kicked in the door. I rushed downstairs with the boy and total chaos broke out.” 

Bucky pauses then and laughs, part genuine and part bitter. 

“Unsurprisingly, it was a bad idea to give soldiers in a weapon factory hope to break out. Men took up guns and this time the playing field was equal, we both had death on our sides. We fought our way out, annihilated pretty much all of the HYDRA guards stationed there. By the time the men made it upstairs, though, Zola had escaped, but all the prisoners were let out, and we took the documents we could. Someone set fire to the hellhole and we walked away, confused as hell and injured but alive.”

By this point, Steve’s blown away, even anger set aside in favor of sheer amazement. Bucky’s everything Steve has ever wanted to be, but he earned it in the worst way, captured and tortured and yet still standing up for people. Steve doesn’t deserve Buck, not with how he feels about him, not with how good Bucky is. Steve realizes his must be sitting there slack-jawed like some idiot, but Bucky just laughs, a beautiful genuine laugh Steve hasn’t heard in months, when Steve jerks his jaw shut.

“Yeah, I can’t believe it much either. I woulda thought I was still on that table in the factory afterwards if the trek hadn’t been godawful afterwards. We were way out in Axis territory, see, and only had a faint guess as to where on earth the Allied lines or camps were. We walked for days, eating what we had scrounged up from the factory and whatever we could hunt, draggin’ the injured along towards god-knows-where. We saw nothing for a solid week and buried so many men, but we couldn’t stop walkin’, we couldn’t, cause if we did then we would stop and never start again. Eventually we got lucky with a small Allied troop who lead us back – I have no idea how the Krauts didn’t find us first, big slow band we were- and it was heaven on earth, Steve, I swear to ya it was.”

“I believe you.” And he did. Steve knows what it’s like to suffer, and he knows the smallest comfort is like mana from heaven when he’s sick and dying from pneumonia for the third time. That’s just his experience, even; he can’t imagine what it was like for Bucky and those men, having been starved and tortured and then having to walk for a week, stopping only to bury the dead. From Bucky’s description, that factory was hell on earth. Those men deserved heaven.

“They let us sleep and eat, but the next day the higher-ups had us all assemble to take inventory on the survivors, ask for the story. By that time, the story of my escape – spread by that same boy, Stevie, I still can’t believe he made it – and how it started everything had already spread through our whole merry band, and they called me leader. Hell, Steve, I wasn’t even the highest ranked there, I was just a Sergeant, but I ended up with the credit for the whole operation. Just cause I broke out and made ‘em walk.”

“Because you deserved it, Buck. You did lead them, after all, you said so yourself. “Bucky opens his mouth to cut him off, so Steve pushes forward harder. “Those men may have taken advantage and fought by themselves in the chaos, but it was the chaos you made, and then you made them have something to live for afterwards by making them walk. Don’t sell yourself short, Buck.”

“Yeah, well, whether I deserved it or not, I got credit for rescuing about a hundred prisoners of war from three different countries. They bumped me up all the way to Captain for that, but they wouldn’t let me fight,” His expression sours. “Apparently, I had won over the French Resistance and Britain along with the bulk of American troops, and they couldn’t let a ‘hero’ like that go to waste.”

Apparently, Steve couldn’t hide his expression worth a damn and the question showed clear on his face because Bucky holds up his hands and says, “Hey, I was gettin’ there, hold your horses, Stevie.” He smiles, something small but real that makes Steve's heart clench. “Glad to see you haven’t changed.” 

His face goes dark again as he continues, “To them, I was worth more in propaganda than I was in lives saved, so they called me off, claimin’ that after all that I had been through I deserved a break. No one else got one, but I did. Said they were sending me back to the States, and wasn’t I so excited,” there’s the sarcasm Steve loved so much, twisted around something unfortunately real, “and dressed me up in the lovely little thing you saw on stage. I toured all around, dancin’ like a show monkey and encouragin’ people to buy bonds instead of fightin’.” He takes a deep breath and visibly calms a little. He looks at Steve.

“And here I am.”

Here he is indeed. So much had happened to him to end up in their little Brooklyn apartment again and Steve almost feels bad for being happy he’s back. Buck goes to open his mouth again and Steve already knows what he’s going to ask.

“So, how have you been? You seem to be doin’ pretty well now,” he says, head swiveling. And yeah, Steve has bought and collected different pieces for the apartment, small paintings and the like that they couldn’t afford before, but that Steve always found inspiring. Of course, Buck’s probably talking about the posters right next to them and the art supplies scattered on the table that Steve uses on a desk instead. He’s gonna ask about those too, Steve knows, so he might as well knock out two birds with one stone. He nods in agreement.

“Yeah, I got a job drawing posters. Made the one for your show, actually, that’s why I went.” Bucky’s eyes go wide and he gives a little laugh.

“Those were yours? They were so good, I should’ve known.” He gets up and slings an arm around Steve like everything he had just told Steve about had never happened and they were just stupid Brooklyn boys in 1937. He’s beaming now. “No one else ever drew like you, Stevie, I knew someone had to appreciate it someday. Helpin’ with the war effort and doin’ art, Steve, you must be livin’ the dream here.’ Bucky’s tearing up a little and Steve’s heart aches. “I’m so happy one things turned out good for one of us.”

But they didn’t, Steve almost says, the serum didn’t work and I couldn’t save you like I was supposed to. Some of his thoughts must show on his face again and the smile fades a little. “I know it’s not the way you wanted to help, but you’re helpin’, Steve, you really are, and you’re safe. I said knowin’ that boy was safe was one of the reasons I held on? The other was you, knowin’ you were gonna be here okay when I came back. I’ve seen so many men die Steve, and the fact that it wasn’t gonna be you helped more than you could ever know.”

Steve feels guilty, then. He hasn’t told Bucky much yet, but he doesn’t think he’s ever gonna tell about Erskine now, not with how Bucky feels. It’s the better that way, he tells himself, that Bucky won’t know about it. Less worry, less shame. He just hopes Buck won’t notice the gaps in the story, like exactly how he got his job or why an officer stops by every so often to check on him or how he knows someone like Peggy, because he knows Buck’s gonna find out about her, Steve hasn’t been able to hind anything about anyone he was ever remotely interested in since he knew what attraction was. It doesn’t matter that he’s in love with Bucky, Buck’ll find a way to find out about her and probably set them up somehow. 

The conversation lags a little after that as Steve puzzles over what to say to Buck when he inevitably asks about something Steve doesn’t have an answer for. It never comes to that, though: some questions about his health, about Buck’s mom and Becca, about all the neighbors, but never anything like recruitment or fighting. Steve thinks maybe Bucky’s trying not to think about those things. The chatter lasts for hours despite that. It only stops when Bucky looks out the window and sees that it’s dark out. Bucky fake smiles, then.

“I have to go back now,” he says, “the whole band expects me back at the hotel for the night.” He seems sad about that. Steve wants that to stop.

“You can’t stay?” He tries to keep the pleading out of his voice.

“Nah.” Buck gives him a sad but genuine smile. “Believe me, if I could stay, I would. But you can come and see me tomorrow, yeah? The tour’s going overseas to Europe soon and New York City’s our last stop here in the good ol’ USA, so we’ll be here a little bit longer.”

Steve wants to ask about Europe, because god he does want to be over there, but that would be a tad insensitive considering what Buck’s told him, he thinks. Instead, he just knocks Buck on the shoulder (and pushes him over a little - Steve must have caught him by surprise because Buck actually looks a little pained) and says,

“Who says I want to see your ugly mug again?” Bucky smirks but his eyes hold real joy in them. 

“Suit yourself. I’ll just be hangin’ around all the folks who do, charmin’ all the dames. I was just askin’ cause your beak makes my face look even better by comparison, but if you really don’ wanna…”  
The banter is so familiar, Steve could cry, and Bucky, for all his charm and bravado, looks like he might too. 

“Well, in that case, I’d better come along, wouldn’t want you to be all alone if you’re countin’ on people to love your face.” Bucky laughs, and its hearty and full and everything Steve needs in life. 

“You hit hard, punk.” His face softens into an emotion Steve doesn’t quite know how to name. “I missed ya. I missed this.”

“I missed you too.” They hold each other, then, in the middle of the apartment, and Steve knows Buck should go but god, he doesn’t want him to. Still, he needs to and they both know it, so Steve pulls away and smiles.

“Should I escort the ever-so-famous Captain America to the door, or can he do that himself?” Bucky shoulder-checks him for that, but for the first time in his life Steve doesn’t almost fall, and Bucky’s laughing so Steve knows it isn’t out of anger.

“If anything, the brave Captain should escort you to the door, Stevie. It’s only the polite thing to do.” He links Steve arm with that and they walk to the door, beaming like a couple of mooks even though it’s maybe five steps away, until they’re there and have to separate. Bucky opens the door and walks out, mutters an I’ll see you tomorrow punk, dodges Steve’s elbow jab, and saunters down the hallway like a movie star. Steve watches him as he goes, until he hits the stairs, and then he’s gone. 

Steve collapses on the couch, overwhelmed and exhausted, before managing to drag himself to bed. _Bucky’s here, Bucky’s alive, Bucky’s been tortured, Bucky’s Captain America_ all fly through his head until he finally falls asleep.

........................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................

He does end up going to see Buck that day, and the day after that, and the day after that. Most of the time it’s after one of Bucky’s shows, so he ends up getting introduced to the USO girls as well, and they all end up swapping stories for hours about siblings and parents and boyfriends. It’s a bliss Steve had forgotten and almost regrets rediscovering – he really does not want to see Bucky go again, especially not after what Bucky told him had happened overseas – and even though Bucky’s only been back a few days now, Steve’s not sure how he can go back to living without him. 

Bucky seems to feel the same, at least as far as Steve can tell. They’re together any time they can be, going out ‘dancing’ sometimes (Steve’s no better than he was, but he humors Bucky, always has and always will) and just go back to their apartment to sit in comfortable silence in others. Mostly, though, it’s just talking, which is unfortunate because Steve can’t lie, and he knows that eventually he’s gonna slip up and give Bucky something that can’t be explained away.

It happens on the fifth day Bucky’s been back in Brooklyn, and after the nightly chat with the USO girls. They’ve gone out to another dance hall, and it seems Bucky’s more popular than he was before the war, if that’s even possible – he’s constantly swirling with one girl or another. Steve stands at the wall as usual, lets his guard down while nursing the whiskey that somehow no longer affects him. Watered down, he supposes as he nurses his drink. Bucky had told him that happened a lot over in Europe, so it makes sense that with the US in the war they’d eventually hit this point. While he’s musing over this, Bucky drags over two girls, a blonde and a brunette that he’s chatting eagerly with. Steve still has no resistance to Bucky so when he pulls Steve into the conversation Steve goes, stammering. 

It’s not like talking with the USO girls that Steve knows are out of his league – Bucky’s got his mind set on getting Steve a girl for some ungodly reason despite the fact they’ve been together for years, old habit maybe – and all his carefully structured speech goes out the window. He ends up slipping about Agent Carter and then, all of a sudden, the fact he’s embarrassing himself in front of two clearly uninterested girls doesn’t matter because Bucky’s shoeing them away with an expression that suggests the worst is yet to come.

Sure enough, once the girls are gone Bucky grabs him by the arm and nearly carries him into the alleyway outside. His face is dark and stormy, which is a little different than what Steve expected; he expected Bucky to be betrayed that Steve didn’t tell him, maybe, but not angry. Still, Steve knows Bucky’s moods and braces himself for the onslaught. He’s not left waiting. Bucky’s tirade begins near instantly, but his voice is a lot flatter than Steve expects, which scares him a little.

“So then, you know Agent Carter?” It’s not a question, and Steve doesn’t treat it like much of one. He nods. Bucky’s face darkens a little more.

“Funny, so do I. I met her over in Europe while I was being examined. They told me that what happened to me was what the expected result of this thing called Project Rebirth, and that she was there, so she might know something about what happened to me.” Steve thinks he knows where this is going. He also knows why Bucky looks like he might explode. Both things are not exactly positive.

“We ended up talking a bit, me telling her about Brooklyn and her telling me about her time in the States. Said she met a kid from Brooklyn, which I thought was funny cause it made me think of you, but it couldn’t be you, because she was only at a military camp in New Jersey where you could not be.” Bucky’s pitch is rising, becoming more frantic, but he’s not yelling, not yet. “So tell me, how do you know Miss Carter?” 

So then, it’s the end of Steve’s rope. He can’t lie and wouldn’t bother to begin with – Bucky can read most people well and Steve like a book. It’d just be an insult at this point, and Steve couldn’t do that to Bucky, not now. 

“I was at Camp Lehigh.” Steve braces a bit, but there’s a light in Bucky’s eye that says he knew that already, and he’ll get what he wants out of Steve sooner or later. Steve decides sooner.

“At the Stark Expo, when I wandered off, I met this man, Abraham Erskine.” Bucky’s breath catches; he knows who that is, clearly. “I thought he was gonna arrest me at first because he knew about all of the times I faked my papers to try to get in- “

“You faked your- “Bucky shakes his head, “you know what, I don’t know why I thought you wouldn’t, you stubborn punk. Go on.” The punk and mild exasperation give Steve a little more courage. 

“But he just asked me why I wanted to get in, if I wanted to kill some Nazis. I told him the same as I tell everyone else – I just don’t like bullies. He gave me an invite to Camp Lehigh then, said there might be a way to let me help the fight. I took it, ended up there two days after you left.

“I didn’t know very much then, admittedly, and I just thought that maybe they were gonna pick someone for a special post where medical history didn’t matter. There were a lot of army rejects there, not just me. I was the worst off health-wise of the bunch by a lot, but god, I wanted to help.” 

Bucky’s cooling down a little as Steve goes, the red draining from his face and being replaced by a small smile, the one he always tries to hide when Steve does what he calls stupid. It’s familiar, more familiar than the rage, but there’s a tinge of sadness that makes it bitter. Steve thinks he mutters _of course you did under his breath_.

“I met Agent Carter there, of course. She’s amazin’, Buck, and apparently she liked me a bit because after I jumped on a grenade-“

“You jumped on a grenade!?“

“It was a dummy and a test and anyway, so she recommended me for Erskine. They explained Rebirth to me that night and once I agreed told me not to eat. Erskine and I made a toast and I went to bed believing I was gonna be a new man the next day.” Bucky seems to catch the hint there.

“But you weren’t.”

“But it didn’t happen, no, not as far as I can tell.” Bucky’s face scrunches, waiting for an explanation. “They gave me the serum and zapped me, and when they opened the doors I was the same. I didn’t get any official tests done because someone shot Erskine almost as soon as I stepped out, but I still look then same, maybe breathe a little better,” Bucky’s face morphs into an unreadable expression, “and I wasn’t able to save him. I left in the chaos. No one came after me.”

Bucky’s odd expression is still there.

“Steve,” he says, “that’s how it started with me too. I didn’t notice it at first, just in small things- the straps, walking that long way after so much trauma and so little food, liftin’ more than anyone else. It wasn’t until they ran tests that I found out what exactly happened to me and what I can do. I almost look the same as I did after Basic, Stevie, but I can lift a tank. Maybe that’s what happened to you.”

Steve opens his mouth and closes it a few times. He briefly tries to picture himself lifting a tank and almost laughs aloud. Still, Bucky has a point about the minor things: adding doctor for his exam, the fact he hasn’t gotten sick at all recently, his lack of issues breathing, and other things he’d written off as luck seem to build an undeniable picture. The real question was something both of them seemed to realize at the same time.

“What do we do about this?” Steve, though nervous, is a little excited. If Erskine’s serum worked, even a little, then maybe he could get into the army and help people this time around. Making posters is great and all, but it’s not as hands-on as Steve would like. There’s no guaranteeing where the money goes, but fighting Nazis is a definite way to save some lives.

Bucky looks like he feels more on the nervous side; he likely knows what’s going through Steve’s mind considering what Steve had just told him. Steve’s not gonna let that stop him, not when he could help somebody, but he knows Bucky is still a bit emotional, so he cuts off any dangerous paths of thought.

“I say we test it. It could just be somethin’ minor, after all – not that I’m complaining about being able to breathe – and it’s not going away any time soon, so I’d like to know what exactly happened to me.” Bucky looks caught between agreeing and objecting, so Steve continues, “But I’m tired and emotional and so are you, don’t try to deny it. We’ll have better results tomorrow.”

Bucky nods his head in reluctant agreement as they exit the alleyway and start their way back to the apartment. Yesterday, Bucky got permission to stay there overnight, some excuse about cutting hotel costs, so they can wake up bright and early tomorrow and get to work testing. Steve’s not exactly sure how Bucky feels about that, but he’s putting his foot down on this one. He has to know. They go to bed in a tense silence, energy thick in the air with the promise of what tomorrow will bring.

.......................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................

Tomorrow brings the smell of coffee and breakfast that makes Steve’s mouth water – there’s bacon and eggs, which he has no idea how Bucky got since they’re expensive and rationed but he isn’t complaining, and he leaves the bed on the will of his nose alone. His rush of confidence from last night has worn off, leaving him more than a little anxious, and he hopes that Bucky’s willing to just let it be. Walking into the kitchen shows him Bucky’s smirking face (he probably knows Steve stuck his foot in his mouth last night, the bastard), hopes falling. Joke’s on him, Steve thinks while eating his second plate, Steve can just keep his mouth full. 

Except he can’t, because no matter the magic with which Bucky got the ingredients breakfast is bound to run out. It does, way too soon. Steve tries to hold off by drinking his cup of coffee as slow as possible while Bucky finishes off his fourth portion – a serum thing, apparently – but the cup is nearly empty and Bucky’s starting to eye him with a certain predator look that says he’s not going to get out of this. 

The silence when Steve drinks the last drop is palpable, and it’s driving him a little insane. Maybe that’s Bucky’s strategy. Let him pretend everything is normal until he gives in out of guilt. Steve decides to just throw in the towel early for once in his life and stands up, saying,

“Well, I’m full, and if we’re gonna get around to this, we might as well start now. I’d rather do this right after eatin’, if you don’t mind.” Before Buck can call his bluff, he turns to the door and starts to head downstairs, exiting into a nearby alley before he realizes that he has no idea where the tests should be. He turns his nose up when Bucky finds him moments later, ignoring Bucky’s knowing laugh as he comes up.

“Well, if you’re just that eager, we can head down near the docks. Plenty of heavy lifting to be had there, and enough room for you to run.”

“Run? Buck, I have asthma.”

“Not if the serum worked, you don’t, and that’s what we’re gonna check.” With that, Bucky grabs him by the arm and begins to drag him as if he’s a child. Steve pulls his arm back and Bucky looks mildly surprised, then knowing again. Steve realizes he probably shouldn’t have been able to do that with a man who could lift a tank.

Bucky runs the tests at the dock like a drill sergeant, having Steve heave boxes and sprint and jump and do all sorts of other things besides. He starts out nice, concerned, but it’s soon clear that Steve is much healthier than before, and the tests become about _how much healthier_. Bucky gives him the same load of crates all the men have to haul, double, triple, then starts adding more in a sort of awe; Steve’s arms, skinny as they are, don’t seem to be strained at all. Running yields similar results, with miles being run in minutes and no lung issues to be seen, and he can jump onto a stack of crates as tall as Bucky with little effort. Steve almost wishes he were tired so he weren’t so overwhelmed, and it seems Bucky feels the same. They spend the whole afternoon there, trying to find limits and failing repeatedly, until eventually the sun sets and they realize Steve’s been working the entire damn day and only feels a bit winded at best. 

The enormity of it swells between them as they walk back to the apartment and stays as an unwanted elephant in the too-small apartment. Steve thinks it’s going to be another issue for tomorrow until Bucky pipes up from the bed next to him,

“So. I think you have a serum.” He starts giggling a little, “How on earth did you not notice?”

“What do you mean how did I not notice? Buck, I’m an artist, I’m not constantly doing Hercules’ Twelve Labors for laughs or anything. I just thought I was lucky, not getting sick, and most of the good things - no asthma, steady heart – I blamed on the good salary and steady food supply. I was told I was gonna come out of that chamber physically flawless, but it just looked like I was still me. Not exactly a perfect man here, Buck.” There’s a bit of silence from Bucky’s side of the bed for a while before he begins to speak again. He’s half-mumbling, but Steve can make it out fairly clearly.

“Except you would be.” 

“Would I?” Bucky startles a little, and Steve rolls over to face him confusedly.

“Sorry, I just forgot that you weren’t- nevermind. It’s true though, what I said, and what just happened proves it. Looking at you, no one expects much, but that’s what’d make you perfect on the field – they would talk and no one would ever think you would hear them, take you as a prisoner with no fear of resistance or harm. You could be the perfect spy.” Steve ponders this, considering. “And you know the army’d find a way to use you if they found out, even if it’s not like that, you know they would.”

“Why can’t I let them?” Bucky jumps up, nearly knocking off the blankets.

“What?!” Steve sits up too, determined.

“You heard me. I want to really help there, not just sell bonds whose money may never see the front. ‘Sides, you have to go back overseas sometime, right. After all, if they’d use me on the front, they’d use you, and I wanna help. I can’t stand the thought of you going back there alone, not after what happened. Let me go and have your back.” Panic flashes through Bucky’s eyes and he shakes his head fervently.

“You don’t understand Stevie, they’ll put you through hell itself if they think it’ll get them somewhere, I would know! You can’t see the front, you can’t. Everything you think this war stands for disappears there and there’s just _death_. “ 

“Then that’s all the more reason I should go with you! You shouldn’t have to face that alone, Bucky, and with the serum, I can have your back better than anyone. I can’t let you go and fight alone, Bucky, especially not that I know that I can help.” Bucky looks like he might cry or laugh. It’s a frightening combination.

“Steve, you just can’t- “

“If you don’t let me go with you, I’ll find a way to go alone.” 

That freezes Bucky in his tracks, mouth open and eyes wide. Steve feels guilty, but he needs to do this; Bucky cannot go back alone. He’d already called it hell – another trip might break him. 

“You already said they’d take me if they knew, Buck, and there’s only so long I can keep it hidden. I’ve been lucky so far, but who’s to say they’ll never check back up on me, especially now that it’s been proven that the serum could work. Chances are I’ll end up in the war one way or the other, and I’ve never been one to run from a fight. I’d just rather that fight be with you.”

Bucky stares at him with amazed eyes, and the silence hangs in the air. Steve waits for the other shoe to drop, for Bucky to start yelling or crying, but that doesn’t happen. Instead, Bucky just curls around Steve and hugs him tight, burying his face into Steve’s bony shoulder. 

“Okay,” he whispers, “okay.” 

And then he kisses Steve. 

Steve’s first reaction is to freeze, a deer in headlights, and Bucky picks up on his distress as he pulls away hurriedly. Bucky starts to sputter out some excuse, but then Steve’s mind catches up and he grabs Bucky’s collar to pull him back again. He keeps Bucky close for as long as possible and kisses with all the passion he can put in. 

They break for breath and Bucky looks at Steve with all the amazement and devotion and love that Steve feels for him. They stay like that, eyes locked, for too long before breaking into laughter, howling loud enough that the old Mrs. Piper next door bangs on the wall for them to shut up.

Still giggling, Bucky turns to him again.

“We’re both idiots, aren’t we?”

“Yeah,” Steve says, and goes in for another kiss. “Least I’m not a jerk, though.”

Bucky pulls him onto his chest – Steve can feel the overjoyed laughter still rumbling against him and cuddles into Bucky’s warmth.

“And you’re a punk. You’re lucky I love you anyway.” Bucky says, then seems to catch what he said, tensing against Steve’s cheek.

Steve pushes himself back up, puts his forehead to Bucky’s, and whispers,

“I love you too.”

They kiss again, slow and perfect.

They don’t talk for the rest of night, Steve contentedly tucked against Bucky’s side, but they don’t need to. Everything is well.

........................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................

Reality crashes into Steve, and he starts to panic before Bucky sleepily shushes him with a kiss. It tastes like morning breath, but the sentiment is there, and when Bucky hugs him from behind and kisses his neck at breakfast, the _I love you_ is there just as clear as if Bucky and Steve had said it aloud.

The rest of Bucky’s stay in Brooklyn goes much smoother than that day, floating on a cloud of bliss and openness. Steve fills Bucky in fully on the gaps in Steve’s original story: Agent Carter, Camp Lehigh, Erskine, Howard Stark. Surprisingly, Bucky hones in on the last one – apparently, he’s jealous that Steve go to meet the charismatic inventor, despite Steve’s claims that he shouldn’t be because, in all honesty, Howard is kind of a dick. Steve tells how Carter pecked him on the cheek for good luck before the serum (which made Bucky jealous also) and was the only one that wasn’t disappointed that he didn’t look like a success, saying she was happy he was alive (which appeased him). Soon it was the final day before the tour went to Europe, and Bucky had managed to convince the show’s head that Steve was stage crew, helping paint props. Steve only took mild offense to that and took more when Bucky asked for what must have been the sixtieth time if Steve wanted to do this. The reply was always a firm yes.

The trip overseas was long and a bit arduous, but Steve lost time trapped in his thoughts. What was London like, could he really save lives, would General Phillips, as Bucky called him, even believe their story? Soon enough, Steve got part of the answer to his first question as they disembarked in a small port and took a train to London, slogging through the rain as they walked from the station to their temporary lodgings. The attitude in London was so different from that of New York, more dreary and hopeless, shadows living in the ruins of bombed buildings and the eyes of hungry people. It only strengthened Steve’s resolve.

It was decided that their first show in Europe would be in the camp that freed soldiers from Bucky’s prison break had been transferred to, a small American camp. Bucky had mentioned that Captain America wasn’t very popular with the soldiers; no doubt that was part of the specific choice. It certainly wasn’t easy to get to, being smuggled through occupied territory to put on a glorified horse-n-pony show, but the higher-ups didn’t much care. The lives of a small group of people could be put at risk for the sake of a whole war effort, they’d said. Bucky had scoffed and ranted, disgusted, for about an hour about how they weren’t gonna change a damn thing before Steve reminded him that with two super soldiers, they could. Bucky looked both sad and proud.

The show went about as well as Bucky had said it would, with frenzied booing and loud, clear shouts of _traitor!_ and _sellout!_ from the crowd. Bucky tore off the cowl backstage with fire in his eyes and declared that it was time to make a real damn difference, towing Steve behind him as he marched to Phillip’s tent.

There was motion and talking inside (was that Agent Carter?), but clearly Bucky was beyond giving a damn and shoved the flap aside, storming right in. Agent Carter looked briefly irritated before her expression morphed into one of surprise with the sight of Steve. Phillips just looked angrier that Steve was there. 

“What is the meaning of this, Captain?” Agent Carter asked calmly. Steve silently sent her a blessing; Phillips looked like he might explode.

“The meaning of this is that the men can see right through the dang show, so I proved you all wrong. You claimed that I was gonna bring up morale, but that clearly isn’t the case. I’m not gonna be your damn show monkey anymore.” Peggy just nodded her head towards Steve.

“And what does he have to do with this?” The _why and how is he even here_ was tactfully left unsaid. 

“He’s gonna be how we truly help the men on the front. You all ditched him after Project Rebirth,” Phillips’ expression tightened – Bucky probably shouldn’t know that, “but you were wrong. He’s as strong and fast as me, maybe stronger and faster. I’m sure you know that having one super soldier is good; two would be better, I’m sure, but- “

“There’s only one way I’m doing what you say.” Steve finished. Phillips was sitting back in his desk, contemplating, and Carter looked curious.

“And what is that?” 

“I want to form a team,” Bucky said. His voice left no room for argument. “Me, him, and some of the best men we can find. We’ll take on more covert missions by ourselves, get us some of the harder victories with less fighting. We can wipe HYDRA off the map and actually boost morale. Soldiers like to see success, and I’m sure the higher-ups would too. It’s a win for all of us.”

Phillips looks both considering and like Bucky’s something he’d have to scrape off the bottom of his boot, something which Steve is very familiar with. Men like Phillips are used to unerring respect, so when someone comes to them telling they’re wrong, they tend to ignore every statement after, including any solutions. Steve’s seen it many times before, back in Brooklyn – it’s how he got into most of his fights. He just hopes Phillips isn’t so obstinate as to ignore all of the benefits of Bucky’s plans for the sake of wounded pride. 

Just then, Phillips breathes a deep sigh, red in the face. Let him blow up: it’s the military’s loss, and Steve will just find some other way to help people. 

But Phillips doesn’t yell, just takes another deep breath and says, “I should have you court-martialed for insubordination, “ Bucky looks like he might scream, “but I won’t.” There’s a collective air of surprise to the room that Phillips seems to read as he continues.

“You came in, in the middle of a confidential and possibly sensitive briefing, telling off your superior officer, so I have every right to get your ass jailed or worse.” Steve’s ready to fight this man, rank and convention be damned. “But I won’t, because the US military is breathing down my neck right now for some goddamn miracle to boost morale, and I don’t have one. And I agree that you prancing around in goddamn spandex is a waste of time and a valuable super soldier, so if you’re willing to get together your little group, I’ll see that it happens.”

Bucky’s still tense, and so is Steve; after all, these sorts of things always have some sort of catch. 

“However, you cannot operate completely independently. We’ll find your HYDRA bases, I don’t care, but you have to take orders from the top, including me, or at least run your plans by us. If you want to do this, you’re gonna have to do it under the flag of the US army. I’ll be skinned alive otherwise, and I wouldn’t be surprised if they tried to skin you two morons too.”

Steve’s not too happy about the insult at the end but god, he’ll take it. That’s a lot less than he was expecting by a long shot, and Bucky seems to agree, relaxing a little. Still, he seems a bit riled up, so Steve nods at Phillips before Bucky can put his foot in his mouth.

“Alright, sir, we’ll get right to that. I promise you won’t regret this.”

The corner of Peggy’s mouth twitches upward. Phillips does not seem nearly as amused.

“I better not. Dismissed.” Bucky throws Phillips a very reluctant and thoroughly sarcastic salute and Peggy a more genuine one and steps out. Steve throws his own salute and follows. 

Bucky’s told him some about the men he wants and how he met them on the way over; he shared a cage with Gabe, a multilingual black man with so little accent he once tricked the guards he was German, and Dernier, a French explosives specialist who managed to a small explosion with some things left in his pocket. A medic named Morita had tended to his wounds with an impressive amount of precision given the circumstances, a Brit named Falsworth had taken over a goddamn tank during the escape along with another crazy man named Dum Dum Dugan, who had managed to help lead them all while Bucky was still running amok on the upper floors. They had bonded during the grueling walk back home, Bucky’d told him, and he’d trust them with his life.

It seems they will – all of the men are there in camp that day and cordially accept their invitations, with Bucky offering them a drink. The first official meeting of their yet unnamed group is in a dirty canvas tent, passing around a bottle of relatively good scotch that Bucky and Steve couldn’t get drunk on, to their dismay.

One by one, toasts are made to the new group and to Captain America, the head of it all. Steve joins but is last, and Bucky turns to him, a question on his lips.

“Are you ready to follow Captain America into the jaws of death?” The others pretend not hear, but Steve can tell they’re curious; they don’t know who he is very well other than whatever Bucky had told them while delirious during the escape to camp, which was obviously no longer accurate. Steve holds up his glass and responds,

“Maybe, I don’t know him very well.” Bucky’s face falls a little, confused. “But my jerk roommate from Brooklyn who’s had my back since I was six, him I’ll follow.” Bucky lights back up again, but not fully. There’s still a sadness to him when he looks at Steve, even as he turns his attention back to the others. Steve understands – he wouldn’t want Bucky dead either – but not wanting Bucky dead is once of his main reasons for being here. He’s not going anywhere, and Bucky’s just coming face-to-face with that decision. 

Still, the merriment continues long into the night, though it quiets down into slower drinking and more gambling. Steve becomes an instant hit after he tosses a drawing of a woman he sketched on the train to London, and the slaps on the back become that much more genuine when Steve adds that he also has the same freak serum as Bucky. They applaud for that. 

The next few days are spent arming, preparing. They need to start missions as soon as possible in order for the brass not to change their minds and call the whole operation off, but there is some adjustment that needs to be done, mainly for Steve. Steve, despite knowing how to shoot, isn’t particularly skilled in any particular weapon, leaving both him and the rest of the team wondering what he can do. He finds his skill, ironically enough, in vanguard: Howard Stark, who had been called onto the front for weapons development, had handed him an experimental vibranium disk, only to find Steve training with it later. Combined with hand-to-hand lessons with Peggy, he was an excellent front-runner – someone with a bright, colorful, invulnerable shield to distract with, enough strength to cause serious damage, and speed enough to dodge potential strikes when handing the shield off to Bucky, yet small enough to go unnoticed for a while if needed, he was shown to be perfect for initial infiltration. The idea seems to frighten Bucky, but Steve thinks it’s the perfect job for him, since all he’s ever wanted to do in life is to protect. Now, he’s given that opportunity.

The first raid goes staggeringly well, Steve slipping in and taking people down with as little ruckus as possible until all hell breaks loose, which is Bucky’s signal to charge right in, Steve covering him and him covering the rest of the team. The shield, after hitting and knocking out a few HYDRA goons when Steve and Bucky pass it back and forth, is found to be a surprisingly good projectile weapon. Bucky especially likes it since the angle and aim complement his skills as a sniper. Despite technically belonging to Steve, in the end, it’s thrown around enough to be both of theirs, with Steve as the spontaneous planning and Bucky as the aim and precision.

They come back to camp whooping from the adrenaline and sheer victory; there were no serious injuries, with the worst being a long but shallow cut across Bucky’s chest that was already healing, and they had scored enough information before they blew up the place to have at least thirteen more missions. The noise they cause walking in gives them the name the Howling Commandos, and the success proves Bucky to be all too right. Even Phillips nods, showing what is not pride and happiness but something close to it, over to the side as Howard barrages them with questions about the shield and Peggy about the scored info. It’s such an absurd success they end up drawing the press, and the ‘Howlies’ are soon to be featured in publications all across the Allied territories. Steve’s made a Sergeant on the spot.

And that’s their cycle for months. Using information scored from the base, prisoners, or simply the SSR’s intel, they go on missions together. Some turn out closer than others – Steve nearly has a heart attack when he sees no less that three bullets go into Bucky, nevermind he’s taken two shots himself – but they’re always an overall win, with no serious loss. The Howlies become family, bonded through hardship and the constant miracle missions they provide for the sake of the average soldier, and no secrets are kept. The nature of Steve and Bucky’s relationship is revealed a whole two weeks in, and Steve had been originally denfensive, ready to fight for Bucky’s honor and place as Captain, but the only responses were shrugs, laughs, and, in the case of Dum Dum and Gabe, the handing over of a pack of cigarette rations. _We’re a band of misfits,_ they had said, _a Brit, a Jap, a frog, a circus hand and a Negro. If anything, it’s about time you joined in._ Steve’s never been so eternally grateful.

It seems like both a second and an eternity when they realize they’re nearing the end of it all, of the war and of HYDRA, and the taste of oncoming victory is bittersweet in their mouths. Steve and Bucky have been talking about the future after the war now -dangerous, as any soldier knows that lost hope is sometimes worse than none – and after two long years of war, they’ve decided on a simple life back home, as nobody as Captain America and his best friend can be. They’re tired, and it’s time for rest. 

Irony does love waiting until the last second. HYDRA’s been getting hard to track, but the SSR finally receives intel about a train through the Alps carrying Zola, who holds the key to the last major HYDRA hub. Once they capture him and take that out, it’s all over, just clean-work burning the stumps of any possible new heads. It should just be a normal-n-out mission, simple, and Steve and Bucky can pretend that the kisses they give each other before the mission aren’t ones of possible goodbyes.

It doesn’t turn out that way. HYDRA knows that it’s on its last leg and isn’t hesitating in pulling out everything it has: every soldier seems to have one of the Tesseract-powered guns, and many kill themselves, crunching cyanide pills rather than disclose where Zola is exactly on the train. They have to search each death-trap of a car one-by-one and, with the closed quarters, decide to split. 

They’re near the end when it happens. Steve’s fighting with Bucky, has passed the shield to him when Bucky suddenly leaps between him and a blue blast, flying out the open train door they had just come through and knocking the shield from his hands into the cavern below when he catches the side of the train. Steve hits the gunner, sending him toppling to the ground, and runs to Bucky, taking his shaking hand and pulling him back up into safety, heart pounding. Bucky is safe, and he turns to clear the rest of the cabin – Bucky had come first – 

The soldier he though had passed out sweeps his legs-

He falls out the same door, out to where Bucky just was, where he had just saved him from-

Reaches for the side-

Misses. 

The last thing Steve knows is the gray-blue sky _like Bucky’s eyes_ and the sound of Bucky’s agonized shouting over the sound of the wind whistling in his ears as he falls, falls – 

Then pure black.

........................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................

And then Steve wakes up. The hospital room is a harsh, clinical white that Steve had hoped never to see again, like the hospitals of when he grew up or the untouched snow in enemy territory. He hears voices and tunes into them. It’s a baseball game, a Dodgers one, but something’s not quite right. In fact, the room is all off somehow, like someone had taken the way things were supposed to be and hyper-saturated them, the normal and familiar colors too bright and extreme somehow. Just then, a nurse walks in and she’s not right either. Her hair’s down, her lipstick’s a little too red, her bra shows too much. Individually, it’s ignorable. Together, it’s not.

His first thought is that he’s captured, possibly by HYDRA, but he forces himself to be calm.

“Can you tell me where I am, miss?” Stay calm, betray nothing. The nurse flinches minutely before catching herself – Steve’s not wrong then, something isn’t right. 

“You’re in a hospital in New York City, Sergeant.” She says. Steve notices there are no windows in the room for him to check through.

“And where am I really, miss?” The nurse tenses, and Steve gets ready for a fight.

“I don’t know what you mean.” Steve almost laughs, it’s such a clear lie. Either HYDRA’s lost their touch, or it’s someone else. But who would go to the trouble of finding him, bringing him back to New York and nursing him back to full health only to lie about it? And lie so poorly, at that. It’s almost like they wanted him to notice, Steve thinks, and the realization hits him like a pile of bricks. It’s a test, someone is testing him, seeing what he could pick up, how quick he was on the uptake after waking up in an unfamiliar and possibly dangerous situation. 

Now that he’s looking, the lies that seemed careless then now seem tactically placed, crafted so that someone ignorant may miss them; the game is from ’41, the machinery is a mix of alien and familiar, there are little glass globes in the corners of the room where the walls meet the ceiling. It’s a test, all of it, which brings HYDRA back into the picture, a terrifying concept. Steve gets ready to sprint as well as fight – the door is open, for now, but who knows for how long. It may be a trap, but Steve as a tendency to outsmart and ruin those, and he’d rather take a risk there than see whatever is waiting for him here.

“I think you know what I mean, miss.” The nurse’s hand twitches towards a pocket and Steve jumps up, takes off running. He passes the nurse right as she’s pulling out her weapon; seems they don’t know about the serum (or at least not about its full effects), or she would have her arms in a more convenient spot. He’s gone like a shot, sprinting out the door and down the hall, spotting a pair of blessed double doors with windows. Another test, then. No one would ever make escaping this simple, not unless they had a method of tracking him, but Steve’s gonna give ‘em hell for giving him this opportunity. He pushes through the doors, out into-

New York City.

Except it’s not New York, not like he knows, not with the old brownstones and kids playing stickball in the streets. It’s chaos, a funhouse of light and sound and movement and color that overwhelms him, dizzying. He runs anyway, pushing past pedestrians and causing a few things that, now that Steve’s looking, are definitely cars, to honk. He runs, and he passes the bones of Manhattan, coated in a layer of fresh paint and shiny glass, recognizing Times Square all at once and yet not at all. It’s incredibly crowded, and he pauses, orienting himself. He looks for the small engineering college that he knew Bucky had always wanted to attend, since the front always faced Brooklyn, seeming to invite Bucky in. He finds nothing, and instead sees a black man in a black coat striding towards him with purpose. A quick scope around and he finds himself surrounded by agents that had melded into the crowd before.

The black man, who Steve now sees has an eye patch – incomplete field of vision, the on-guard part of him notes, possibly exploitable when attacking from the right – walks towards him and stands with a confidence of a man who has a lot of power and information at his fingertips and knows it.

“My name is Nicholas Fury,” the man says, “and I welcome you to New York City, Sergeant Rogers.” He’s seen Steve’s confusion, then, and is probably waiting for Steve to ask. Alright then, Steve’ll bite.

“This doesn’t much look like New York City to me,” he says. Fury gets a certain glint in his eye that reminds Steve of when he was a child watching his neighbors play chess as he lay sick in bed. It was the look of someone who had just sealed their victory while their opponent sat, unaware. Steve’s the opponent, in this scenario.

“You were out of action for a long time, Rogers. Falling hundreds of feet onto the slopes of the Alps isn’t what one would call a quick-recovery time. Most wouldn’t recover at all, in fact, and it’s amazing you survived. A miracle, one would call it. Impossible.” Fury still hasn’t played his trump and they both know it, so Steve nods for him to go on.

“You fell, Sergeant, and the noise of the train passing caused an avalanche. Covered you right up, froze you solid.” There’s a cold dread growing in Steve’s chest, sick anticipation. There’s a big bombshell about to drop. “You fell into a sort of stasis caused be the serum: almost dead, but not quite. And there you stayed, frozen and buried under layers upon layers of snow, for seventy years.”

The world constricts, or maybe it’s Steve’s chest, and everything becomes too big, too much. He can’t breathe, can’t think, so instead he chooses to listen, motioning for Fury to finish before he collapses in on himself.

“After a particularly warm summer, a skier in the Alps stumbled upon a partially-uncovered and very familiar shield, a search was launched, and we found you. We were in the middle of organizing a funeral and preparing a public announcement when your heart started going again. We brought you to a hospital and altered the room in hopes that it would make your waking more comfortable.”

Even if Steve had the mental capacity for anything other than _panicpanicpanic_ , it’s such a boldfaced lie that it wouldn’t need to be called out; Fury knows that he knows it’s a lie. Instead, a million questions zip through Steve’s head, did we win the war, are the Nazis gone for good, who are you then, did the Howlies make it, is Bucky okay, did Bucky make it. He picks the one least likely to cause him a full-blown panic attack in the street.

“And who exactly are you?” Fury smirks like he’s been waiting for that question, and Steve is sure he has been.

“I am the director of an agency called SHIELD, and we work in matters of national security and protection. After the war, the SSR collapsed, but Agent Carter,” Steve’s head jerks up, “thought there was still work to be done, and she was right, so here we are. And we want you. The world could use another Captain America.”

The mention of Peggy and _another_ Captain sets his head spinning again, and Fury seems to pick up on that distress.

“We’ll provide you with an apartment, get you all up to speed with the real world and everything it has to offer. You could, of course, say no, but so much has changed since your time and you’ve become a big name. Someone’ll find out you’re out here and then you won’t have a choice who you join or what name you take.”

Fury is pretending to be gracious, but Steve knows a thinly veiled threat when he sees one. Even so, he has to admit Fury has a good point: he doesn’t know anything about the world, and judging from what he’s seen so far, a lot has changed. It’s not like he could just head home to his apartment and get a job, he knows, and though he doesn’t trust Fury, he trusts Peggy. Something she made has to have been founded on good ideals, he knows, and he’s never been one to stand by when others need help. He also knows that Peggy would have him be cautious even when choosing the best option, so he nods slowly in response. If Fury thinks he’s getting a sheep of a soldier, Steve’ll bring him hell.

“Alright. We’ll assign you an agent to help you adjust. He’ll lead you to your apartment.” Of course they have one prepared, Steve thinks, but Fury’s not getting away that easily – Steve still has questions, even if he’s not sure he wants them answered.

“What happened to Bucky?”

The brief flash of pity on Fury’s face sends Steve reeling before Fury even opens his mouth; if Fury’s not willing to treat this as a trump card, it’s damn _bad_.

“Captain Barnes died a heroic death only a week after you did, Sergeant.” Steve’s world stops turning, but Fury continues to speak. “The information gained from Zola allowed the SSR and Howling Commandos to find the final HYDRA base, but Schmidt was already preparing the ace up his sleeve – the Valkyrie, a plane loaded to the brim with nukes made for every major US city - when they stormed the place. By the time they reached Schmidt, the Valkyrie was ready for takeoff, and only Captain Barnes was able to board. He did what he had to in order to stop Schmidt, but it was too late then; the Valkyrie was already on her way to her destination, cruising over the Arctic Circle.” Steve feels ice sliver down his back.

“He put her down in the water, saving millions of lives but losing his own. The SSR sent a team for retrieval, but all they found was his arm, which had been severed by debris from the crash, and he was given a hero’s burial down in the cemetery near your old apartment. No one has taken the title of Captain America since, but I’m offering it to you, here and now.”

Steve doesn’t give a damn about Captain America, but Jesus, Mary and Joseph _Bucky_. Bucky’s _dead_ , Bucky’s _gone_ , and Steve’s not sure how to manage having his soul ripped in two. His whole life, they were always afraid that _Steve_ was going to be the one to die first. Was this how Bucky felt, trying to figure out a future without Steve, just in case? Steve’s crushed, and torn apart, and bleeding, and broken without Bucky here. For the first time in his life, Steve’s truly alone, and the cruel wave of reality washes over Steve as he breaks down crying in the middle of Times Square, but it doesn’t matter, because Bucky’s dead.

Fury disappears as he sobs and a SHIELD agent makes his way out of the woodwork of the crowd to guide Steve into a car while he shakes with the force of his grief. The agent asks if he would like to see Bucky’s grave, but Steve decides against it; that’s another hurdle that he wants to face (much, much) later down the line. Instead, he turns his attention to the new New York around, if only to have something else to focus on. It works, at least partially, and Steve ends up with his face pressed against the glass of the window like a child, overwhelmed by the colors and sounds of the future. It’s exactly the sort of thing Bucky would love, which bitters the experience a bit, but Steve swears to experience the future wholeheartedly for Bucky. 

Steve spends the next month and a half adjusting, which is both easier and harder than Steve had thought. There’s so much new - it’s not just the tech (which is a huge obstacle, Steve admits after accidentally shattering his fourth Stark phone), but society too. Everything seems to have turned on his head: ideas and names that were accepted back before the ice are unacceptable and downright spat upon now, and things that were illegal or unacceptable during his time are widely acceptable or at least legal now. Ironically enough, his agent actually makes adjustment worse, refusing to tell him things that he thinks might put Steve off, including the gay rights movement. Instead, Steve found that out from history exploration on the internet after seeing two men gleefully walk down the street holding hands, and, having been told not to trust Wikipedia wholeheartedly, some history books. Steve has a lot of those, some of which SHIELD gave him and many that they didn’t, and spends his days and nights reading about what happened while he was in the ice. 

Due to the government’s reluctance to official declare him dead, his bank account is still alive and thriving. Seventy years’ worth of pensions built up a fair fortune, and though not ungodly, it’s still more money than Steve ever thought he’d see. He certainly doesn’t know how to spend it all – SHIELD insists on covering basic expenses, including food and rent, so almost all of his spending is luxurious in a way Steve hasn’t ever known. He buys the best art supplies that he can and eats out sometimes, and although he knows that to most his spending is frugal, memories of the Depression and starving still haunt him whenever he makes a purchase. He donates to charities often, just for that. 

If only Bucky could see him now; they might have even been able to be together. 

Still, he adjusts, right up until the aliens.  
..........................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................

Steve knew that he was going to be running some odd or out of the way missions for SHIELD; after all, they knew about HYDRA and the Tesseract and some of the new heroes that the agent had also kindly informed him of. What he hadn’t been expecting was an _alien god_. Still, that’s the briefing he receives as he’s unceremoniously huddled onto a Helicarrier by none other than Fury himself, which was the only reason why Steve agreed in the first place – if Fury was visiting personally, there was serious trouble. On the carrier he meets a nervous-looking man by the name of Dr. Banner, who Steve is told turns into a monster when angered. He’s also told that happens because of a failed attempt to recreate the serum and feels a bit guilty, like its somehow his fault that he and Bucky are the only successes. It buzzes in his mind as he changes into his new uniform – a garish, ungodly parody of Bucky’s old uniform, but functional – and doesn’t fade until he’s informed they’re getting close to their destination. He wasn’t told where it was beforehand, and he thinks he understands why as he steps out into what has to be Germany and feels a bit ill, the screams of long-dead men echoing in his ears from the last time he was here. 

It seems Loki wants to be the next Fuhrer, from the way he preaches, crazed, in the gala, and Steve does what he did for months to people like Hitler before Azzano; he just decks him. If nothing else, it’s not what Loki was expecting from someone his size, and he gets a small edge as he begins to go toe-to-toe with a Norse god. He’s joined by a fiery-haired woman he was told was Agent Romanoff, one of SHIELD’s best. He’s genuinely impressed by her skill, but it doesn’t seem to matter; Loki may not be winning, but he’s slippery enough that he’s not losing, either. Well, he wasn’t, until a glowing suit that shines red and gold so bright it makes Steve’s suit look mild crashes in, backing Loki into a corner. The fight’s done so fast afterwards that Steve’s suspicious, but his interest is more drawn to the man inside the armor, Tony Stark.

Howard’s son, he can’t even believe it; Howard, who was his age in the war, has a son that’s older than him. It makes his circumstances jar him again in a way they hadn’t in months, and combined with Stark’s seemingly natural sass, tensions are high in the quinjet. Stark makes an off-hand comment about _not being able to match the original Cap_ and Steve could nearly explode, but their petty squabble gets disrupted by the booming sound of thunder. Steve’s not stupid – Loki’s face and his knowledge of mythology tells him what comes next and he tries to prepare, but it’s no use. Thor sweeps in like a storm, trying to convince Loki to come with him voluntarily and Loki ardently refusing, and it’s obvious that if there’s any time for Loki to escape, it’s now. Stark goes to fight Thor while Steve seeks Loki, and finds him, still mad as a wet cat but bound besides, so he goes and stops Thor before anything can go further. Thor agrees to go willingly, if only because his brother will not.

They arrive at the Helicarrier and hand over Loki, settling in to allow Thor to tell them Loki’s intentions. Steve knew they weren’t good, but the plans with the Tesseract take him back to the days of glowing guns and men disappearing into nothingness without a trace, and he shivers. He feels sick when Stark begins to prod Banner, unsettled by the man’s casualness, and it boils over into an ugly shouting match that, ironically enough, actually helps them after Stark hacks the SHIELD mainframe and reveals the plans it had with the Tesseract. If sickness and cold dread inside Steve were boiling before, they’re exploding now, and he watches, horrified yet detached, as he yells and screams about the foolishness and hypocrisy of it all. He could go forever, fueled by rage, and feels he might right until he hears something explode, loud and close, and watches, horrified, as something just as loud but much more green rises from the debris.

It’s all chaos after that: The Hulk is screaming but then gone; Steve’s working to fix the engine with Stark while fighting hordes of brainwashed SHIELD agents glowing that pale, sickly blue; Agent Coulson, the one who claimed to be Cap’s biggest fan, is pronounced dead; Loki gets away, and it’s all worth nothing. The burden of failure weighs heavy, and it seems Stark feels the same, because they’re at each other’s throats again until the mutual realization of where Loki’s going sinks in. After that, Stark steps into his suit and redirects the flight path, leading the way and flying ahead in a way Steve begrudgingly respects. It’s not that he dislikes Stark, it’s just that Stark sometimes represents everything Steve hates in a form that Steve can actually affect and hurt, but in this moment, he’s seeing past all that. It’s possible the team might work, after all. 

It’s going to have to, because when the helicarrier finally arrives in New York it’s pure, unadulterated chaos in a way that Steve thinks may be becoming a trend in the mission. The fighting passes in a blur of aliens and space whales and apparently a nuke that Stark flew into the portal, the brave bastard. Regret screams in his brain as he sees Stark fall, only for a lot of it to fade when he opens the face-plate and asks if the team has eaten shawarma, smirking. Steve realizes that maybe that’s Stark’s way of coping as he watches the others eat, too tired to move. They could be friends, maybe, if Steve can just keep that in mind. 

Thor takes Loki back to Asgard for punishment and the Avengers are left to deal with the ruins of New York. Stark, Barton, and Romanov were taken to the hospital to heal, so Steve’s left with the onslaught of questions and blame following the event, and for the first time since he awoken in the future, he’s grateful to have SHIELD as his back-up. They might not be so bad either, he thinks, though he’s still gonna keep his guard up. Individuals can prove themselves to be good – Coulson, for example, the poor man – but organizations are harder to track. 

Still, he does throw himself more thoroughly into his missions now, if only for the sake of those he works with. He gets assigned a STRIKE team, filled with maladjusted military men that he can sympathize well with, even though they may not be the best morally at times. Apparently, that’s common in veterans, or at least that’s what his SHIELD appointed therapist says. Two whole years seem to pass incredibly quickly, with Steve’s life dominated by SHIELD missions and recommended catch-up content from the little brown notebook Steve started to carry around after the Battle of New York.

With the number of SHIELD missions Steve runs, it’s inevitable that something unsavory comes out. They’re usually something not minor, per say, but expected from a large, shadowy organization: they helped start the mess, they mishandled it somehow, etc. While Steve’s not necessarily happy cleaning up SHIELD’s messes, it’s certainly less harmful than what the other alphabet agencies do. 

He ends up temporarily assigned to DC and makes a life for himself there instead. It’s a lot more open than New York City, which is simultaneously comforting and not all at once. There’s still the noise of the city, but it’s dimmer, almost muted, and his morning runs aren’t met with nearly the same foot traffic as they were before. It’s almost lonely, and his runs are spent in silence until he decides to change his route.

It’s nearly six in the morning, fairly late in his run, and the sun is rising when he sees a silhouette up ahead. He’s jogging faster than them and passes them fairly quickly, though he gets a good eyeful as he passes – black, young, with a world-weary look in his eye that sharply contrasts with the adorable gap between his teeth. He looks like he’s running for the sake of escaping his thoughts, just like Steve, so when Steve laps him again, he makes sure to look him directly in the eye as he says, “On your left.” It’s meant to be polite the first and second times, maybe the third.

The smirk on his face when he says it the fourth time after the man shot a “Don’t you say it!” after him has nothing to do with the situation at hand, and neither does the fact that he speeds up when the man starts sprinting after him, shouting indignantly (but not angrily) at him.

The man stops under a tree, panting, so Steve stops too. He’s feeling better than he has in a while, and the man seems to be happier too, so Steve feels safe with a little more teasing.

“Need a medic?” he asks.

The man makes a sound that’s meant be a laugh but comes out as more of a wheeze.

“I need a new set of lungs.” 

Steve laughs too; the man seems good-natured, makes a few jabs about Steve’s running ability right back at him. They’re talking steadily soon. The man introduces himself as Sam Wilson. Steve tenses, just a little – introductions in this day an age usually consist of looks of fear or admiration that Steve really doesn’t know how to deal with.

“I get that, but I actually got some. Steve Rogers.” He says, braced. Sam just smiles at him, smirking a little.

“Yeah, I figured that out. You run fast for such a small guy.” And that’s all he says, no expectations. Steve’s almost ready to cry but instead directs his attention to the emblem he saw on the sweatshirt before. It’s clearly military.

“What unit?” he asks, hoping he’s not overstepping his boundaries.

“58th Pararescue,” Sam says with a sad smile. There’s history there, Steve knows. Steve understands. He asks how long, just to keep the small talk. Sam tells him it was two tours, simple and straightforward, but when Steve turns to leave, Sam surprises him.

“It’s your bed, isn’t it? I slept in caves, with rocks as pillows. So when I got back- “

“It’s like trying to sleep on a marshmallow.” and Sam has that look that says that he knows, but doesn’t find Steve strange for it, just understands. Sam nods, and god, but it makes Steve feel connected in a way he hasn’t since waking up. It’s just a nod but it’s so much more, so it doesn’t feel awkward or like a test to explain he feels in this world when Sam asks. He can just write Sam’s recommendation – Marvin Gaye - down in his book and get no weird stares, no calculations, just the sympathy he hasn’t felt in years. 

He thinks that this is what making a friend feels like.

It ends all too soon when Natasha picks him up for another mission, and Steve steps into the car with a new hope for this era in his chest as Sam cracks a joke behind him. He thinks for the first time since before the war that life may turn out to be better than just good.

Until it’s all turned on its head, because of course it is. He’s sent on a mission with Nat – who he’s really come to like, now – and his team to raid the Lumerian Star. He gets separated from Nat and ends up having to take on more men than he would have liked, straddling the line between fighting safely enough to minimize damage and reckless enough to cover any members of the team, and ends up bruised and battered and nearly fails the mission altogether. He somehow manages to clear and sprints around, worried – _what if she’s been hurt, he can’t lose another ally, not again, not after Bucky_ – only to find her, hair neatly coiffed and perfectly calm, bent over a computer and downloading things onto a USB. He feels like he may explode, even more so when she tells him that none other than Fury told her to do this, because of course he did. 

Despite Natasha’s attempts at explanation, he’s still a 5’2 ball of pure anger by the time they get back to base, and damn if he doesn’t go straight to Fury’s office, blood and grime and all. Fury just looks at him and motions him downstairs to a presumably unbugged basement and explains Project Insight to him. It’s meant to be a measure of trust, Steve knows, but the whole operation reeks of something suspicious to him, and he says so. It’s off, somehow; it’s definitely not something that Fury would have come up with, and that means it came from higher than Fury. Steve may not like Fury but his intentions always seemed good even if his actions were not. Steve knows nothing of whoever ordered this, and it sits in the back of his mind like an itch as he leaves that day.

He’s been meaning to visit Peggy for months, and after all that nonsense, Steve figures it couldn’t hurt. He flies over to London, where he hasn’t been since the war was on (and so much has changed, and so much hasn’t) and tracks down the address of Peggy’s home. He’s lead by a pretty nurse to Peggy’s room, opening the door hesitantly. He doesn’t know what he was expecting to see, but it doesn’t matter because expectations aren’t real, but Peggy is. She’s there, in the middle of the room, and she’s old and frail and alive, and that makes her as wonderful and beautiful as she was seventy years ago. Every part of her face lights up when she sees Steve walk in; there are tears streaming down her face as she hugs him, and he cradles her gently as he pulls up a chair to talk.

Steve doesn’t know how long they talk for, his heart breaking every time Peggy forgets he’s there and starts over. Despite that, it’s still whole and good in a way that seventy years could not break, and he kisses her forehead goodbye while floating on an odd mixture of joy and melancholy. 

The feeling doesn’t last very long, unfortunately – he’s just settled back into his hotel room when he gets a call from SHIELD saying that someone tried to kill Fury. He’s expected to report back immediately, transportation provided, so he hurriedly throws his things into his suitcase to hop aboard a quinjet back home. He gets back to his apartment and has a brief discussion with his neighbor before he hears the music from his apartment. He knows he didn’t leave the radio on, so he heads back outside and peers through his window. There’s a lone figure in the room, purposefully relaxed and unarmed, so he pulls himself in. 

There, in his living room, sits Nicholas J. Fury. That’s a bad sign, Steve knows, so he tenses minutely, preparing for a fight. Fury begins to speak, calmly spinning some yarn about his wife as he types messages into his phone. His wife kicked him out of his apartment, he says; SHIELD is compromised, his phone tells Steve. He just wanted someone to talk to, he says; they’re being monitored, the phone tells him. 

Fury opens his mouth for another lie when a bullet goes through his head, shattering the glass of the window. 

There’s shouting from down the hall but Steve’s already pulling the window open and springing out, catching sight of a figure all in black a few rooftops over. He’s soon in hot pursuit, but the assassin is fast in a way Steve’s never seen in anyone but himself. He flings the shield at the assassin, putting on an extra burst of speed for when it hits and…

The assassin turns and catches his shield. With his metal arm, yes, but he caught the _shield_ , and Steve’s so shocked he almost doesn’t catch it when the assassin flings it back at him like he’d been using it all his life. If Steve hadn’t stopped it, it would have it him straight between the eyes and Steve can only think that that’s incredibly accurate for someone who’s never touched this once. It’s the thought that sticks in his head when he has to report to Alexander Pierce in the Triskelion after the assassin gets away. 

There is no time for any thoughts, though, when he gets assaulted in the elevator. He’s not at all surprised, but twelve against one in a crowded elevator is still grossly unfair, regardless of Steve’s size advantage in the small space, and he ends up having to jump out of a window thirty stories high. He can practically hear Bucky yell at him for being stupid and his heart pangs as he drives away. On the radio, he hears that Pierce has declared him a fugitive – another betrayal on a long list of many, today. 

That doesn’t surprise him either.

It’s funny, how things turn out, Steve thinks as he drives to meet the one person he can trust, Natasha. He chuckles to himself a little masochistically; the one person he can trust currently is an international super spy famed for her ability to lie. The best allies are sometimes the unexpected ones, he supposes s he pulls up to meet her. She has a lot of information, that, at this point, she doesn’t much have a choice but to share.

Unfortunately, some of it is on a flash drive – that same one that almost jeopardized the entire Lumerian Star mission. Looking back, he wonders if he should’ve let it fail – who knows he’d been working for then, for the past two years. Still, it’s done, and they have the information after the Incident at the Apple Shop – it may be his first time kissing since 1945, but that’s because he had already found the only person he’d ever want to kiss by then and they died – so they pile into a van that Steve may have carjacked. 

He gives Natasha the debrief on the way to the coordinates they found, only to find out that it’s not just information she has with Fury’s assassin, it’s personal experience, history. His codename is the Winter Soldier, credited with an absurd amount of kills in just as an absurd amount of time. He managed to not only get a shot on Natasha but to kill a target that she was supposed to protect; the only reasons why she’s alive, she says, is because he thought she was dead. All witnesses are to be killed, combatant or civilian, man or woman, adult or child. All are equal collateral to him, she explains. The number of people alive who have seen him on a mission can be counted on one hand with fingers to spare. The fact that Steve’s alive is a miracle, supposedly. 

Odd, considering he didn’t try all that hard to kill Steve when they last met; a shield between the eyes would be far from fatal, even with how hard he threw it. Why didn’t he shoot?

Steve decides that question can be one for the way back as he pulls off the road near the facility. As he and Natasha approach, it dawns on him that the base is one he trained in seventy years ago. A whole other lifetime. The building seems as dead as he should be, but there’s the subtle buzzing a building still powered. He’s experienced enough to know that can’t be all to it, not a chance, so he raises his guard and his shield, stalking in cautiously through the doors with Natasha at his back. It’s empty, no signs of life whatsoever as they clear their way into the basement of the complex, coughing a little at the waves of dust they brush up as they move, delicate though they are.

There’s some computers down there, huge and clunky and overly-complex in a way that’s almost comforting for Steve; they almost resemble what was being developed during the war, and that’s why he notices the stark, shiny new USB port. He takes the drive from Natasha and puts it in, watching as the screen flickers to life.

Ice slithers down Steve’s spine.

It’s Zola.

It’s Zola, it’s fucking _Zola_ , Zola who should not, _cannot_ be alive, Zola who _tortured Bucky_ , Zola whose retrieval Steve had nearly died for…

But it’s him. It can’t be him, but Steve would know the rat’s face anywhere, the beady, greedy gleaming eyes behind spectacles. There aren’t any on the screen, but that doesn’t matter. It’s Zola.

The shock on his face must show because Natasha looks at him worriedly before turning her attention to the screen, cool again. She’s in control like Steve wishes that he could be right now, but he’s on the verge of a breakdown. Thankfully, if he knows anything about Zola from when he captured him, it’s that Zola won’t make him talk much.

What Zola reveals make him wish he had, or at least that he had room to throw up in. HYDRA, Operation Paperclip, the SSR and SHIELD, everything he fought to destroy or protect are now helplessly, irrevocably intertwined and he wonders if everything not a demented dream he’s having before he hits the bottom of the Alps, because HYDRA still exists. _Cut off one head, two more grow back_ echoes in his head as Zola laughs hysterically, and it this case it almost seems to be literal. Steve chopped off every damn head and managed to sear all stumps but one, and that grew into a whole new monster, one that lived and thrived in the very organizations meant to slay it. A whole new asset too, Zola brags as he shows images of the Winter Soldier. 

After that set of bombshells, Zola begins another megalomaniacal rant, this one of the I’m-immortal-and-therefore-undefeatable variety that, to be quite frank, Loki did better. At this point, though, Zola could be raving about his adorable pet hamster for all Steve cares; HYDRA’s alive and he swore to burn it, and that’s all that matters now. 

That newfound determination survives the missile that blows the bunker to high heaven (before Zola could upload himself, something which a deep part of Steve takes great satisfaction in), and he and Natasha pile into the van as he prepares to gun it to D.C. They end up with a slight detour, first to Sam’s, then to retrieve his gear, but once Sam joins he’s glad that Natasha convinced him that they needed allies. Steve prefers not to drag others into this, but even he has to admit that taking down an international terrorist group is a task for more than two people.

So Sam is with them when they track down Jasper Sitwell, a man that was suspected to be a double agent ages ago by Natasha. She never suspected he would be HYDRA, but there was no reason for her to have. Besides, they can weasel any information they don’t know out of him to fill in the blanks. 

A simple push off the building does the trick but it’s unlikely that HYDRA didn’t know he was gonna spill the beans eventually; Sitwell’s concern that the Winter Soldier is going to come after him is a genuine one. Steve doesn’t want any of HYDRA to live, but he’ll keep Sitwell breathing until they have the time to interrogate him further later. 

Naturally, they don’t have a chance to do that. Because there, standing in the middle of the goddamn highway bridge in front of them, is the Winter Soldier. Sam tries to stop but behind them, as it turns out, is an armored van that seems determined drive them into the Soldier, who’s now sprinting towards them. He jumps onto the roof and rips out the steering wheel before the car flips entirely, crumpling under the Soldier’s arm. Glass brushes his back and arms as he pulls Nat and Sam close to roll out, but the Soldier is waiting for them.

Steve’s mind becomes a mess of gunfire and screaming civilians and crunching metal. 

Sitwell is gone but Natasha and Sam aren’t – he’s not letting them get hurt, not a chance. He draws the Soldier’s attention and they’re fighting, well and truly, and the chaos in Steve’s mind condenses to the here and now.

The Soldier’s an incredible opponent to the point that Steve wishes he weren’t an enemy, simply because he would be an excellent sparing opponent. Natasha may be overflowing with skill but the Solider matches Steve’s speed and strength in a way no one has since he got the serum, and despite the fact the Soldier is trying to kill him Steve falls into a comfortable though distressed rhythm. The Soldier draws a knife but the rhythm stays, which is odd. Steve feels almost familiar with the way the Soldier moves, like they’ve fought before though Steve knows they haven’t. They move over to the van where Steve’s shield’s is lodged so he grabs it, swings at the Soldier.

The Soldier rolls back and the mask comes off, hair obscuring his face.

He looks up at Steve and time…

stops.

“Bucky?”

The name comes out of his mouth unbidden because of whose face that the Soldier’s wearing. It’s Bucky, his best friend and the only man he ever loved, staring back at Steve with ice and death in his eyes. There was a brief glimmer, just a spark, when Steve said Bucky’s name, but it was gone so fast Steve’s half-convinced he imagined it.

After all, Bucky, who put down a plane in the goddamn Arctic, cannot be standing here, in front of Steve, trying to kill him. He just can’t be.

But he is, and Steve knows it. Even after the Soldier responds with a “Who the hell is Bucky?” and effectively rips Steve’s heart in half without touching him, Steve knows it’s him. There’s that little scar, right above his lip, that Steve remembered tracing back during the war. It had amazed him at the time that with all that Zola’s serum could do, it couldn’t heal the tiny scar given to Bucky by Jack O'Reilly when Bucky first defended Steve in that alleyway all those years ago. Steve laughs to himself, just a little – it’s funny, that even with the changes that seventy years can bring, nothing has changed at all. Steve’s still small and stubborn, hoisting around a shield that was always too big for him, and Bucky’s still got his scar. 

The few people left on the highway stare in shock at a long-dead national hero and his long-dead best friend bearing his shield and trying to kill each other. This’ll be on the internet in twenty-four hours or less, Steve knows, except they won’t catch any fighting on film because he won’t fight Bucky, even if it kills him.

Thankfully, it never comes down to that; Sam and Natasha strike Bucky from the back and sides before the same SHIELD Strike team that Steve trained and trusted for the last two years surrounds them with guns. There’s a feral gleam in their eyes and a maniacal self-satisfaction in their smirks, but Steve doesn’t care, because Bucky is all he can think about. Bucky’s eyes, blank and cold, staring at him without a hint of recognition. Bucky’s arm, gone, replaced by metal and death. Bucky, screaming as he fell and as he was likely tortured by HYDRA, begging for Steve to come and help when he never would. 

Hill breaks Steve out of his thoughts by breaking them out of the van the HYDRA agents had piled them into, leading them to a secret SHIELD base. Steve genuinely hates those by now- they’re always associated with something negative, now, and this time is no exception. Fury’s alive (Steve’s not quite sure how he feels about that, admittedly), but it says something about Steve’s life that that’s not only par for the course but also not their main focus of discussion. 

Instead, their main focus is the upcoming Insight crisis. Steve’s not sure how Fury knows about HYDRA’s plot, let alone is prepared for it – he, Sam, and Natasha had only gotten the information from Sitwell a few hours previous in an event that had lead to the whole highway incident – but with the lives of an estimated 20 million on the line, Steve knows it’s not the time to ask questions and takes the chips, nodding his assent. Even Bucky will have to until after this mission, he thinks, though Fury warns him that, as HYDRA’s most critical asset, Bucky’s almost guaranteed to be deployed. 

The drive back to DC is almost underwhelming with everything that has and is about to happen, a brief moment between the chaos to make a plan that naturally goes to shit as soon as they arrive at the Triskelion. It’s T-minus 10 minutes until the launch of Project Insight, and Steve doesn’t have the time to track and disable every HYDRA agent in the base – as much as he would love to do that, with the rage boiling in his blood over Bucky and the stress of millions of lives upon his shoulders, he cannot – so he and Sam sprint to the communications room and make an announcement on the loudspeaker.

“HYDRA has infiltrated SHIELD.”

It’s brief but it does the trick; immediately, agents, both SHIELD and HYDRA, begin to do battle in the halls of the facility as HYDRA fights to ensure the Helicarriers go up and SHIELD fights to make sure they don’t. HYDRA is winning, it seems, as Steve and Sam sprint to the now-launching Helicarriers with chips in hand. The ships are crawling with HYDRA agents, but he and Sam push through and are able to slot the first two chips in with relatively minimal difficulty. 

As minimally difficult as being grossly outnumbered, surrounded, and shot at on a flying weapon can be, anyway.

It’s the third where the real challenge is. Steve has no real access to that Helicarrier and puts his faith in Sam to get him there. Sam does, but the victory is brief at best.

Because naturally, the Winter Soldier is waiting for them there, and Steve’s mind picks that particular moment to revert back into the sheer, primal chaos from back on the highway.

Nobody’s ever quite made Steve crazy like Bucky has, he thinks hysterically. Thank god for Sam, who’s shooting towards the terminal with the final chip in hand. He can’t seem to do much at all, paralyzed again. 

Then Bucky rips off Sam’s wing and Steve stares, unblinking, as Sam falls to Earth. Panic begins to take over and Steve feels himself being to shake - now two of his best friends are near-gone and he doesn’t think he can handle it, and Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, Sam. The idea that two of his friends might die today (more, if Insight goes up) is what unlocks his legs again, and he faces Bucky head-on with a strange, new sense of calm. 

What does he have to lose, now? 

“ _Bucky_. People are gonna die, Buck. And I know you don’t want that.” There’s that glimmer in his eyes again, the one that Steve wants to call hope, but Bucky’s gone stock-still.

“Please, Buck, this isn’t you.” Bucky’s eyes dart over Steve’s thin form, sweeping over his uniform and glancing at his hand. He looks pained. His voice is hoarse as he says softly,

“This isn’t you either.” 

He sounds confused and lost, reaching for Steve to help but afraid he’ll be beaten back. A wave of emotions, stronger than anything Steve’s ever felt, washes over Steve like a tidal wave: relief, confusion, fear, joy, anger, elation, love, all of it swirling into one indiscernible mess. All Steve understands is _Bucky Bucky Bucky_.

Maybe that’s why he also understands what Bucky means, having seen him see the symbol of everything Bucky wanted to protect Steve from and couldn’t in Steve’s hand and on Steve’s chest.

Maybe that's why does he something colossally stupid: he drops the shield.

He smiles at Bucky as he does so; it’s no loss when it means that Steve can regain the other half of his soul again, and there’s no regret in Steve’s heart as they both watch it plummet into the river below. There’s a splash below that, at this height, only they can hear.

Bucky looks him in the eyes and smiles back, tiny and hesitant, and the world could end right there and then and Steve would be happy. 

A warning from Hill sounds in his ear; he only has a minute window before Insight officially launches and slaughters millions, but if he goes now, Bucky may lose his fragile hold on himself.

In order to save both, he needs to trust that Bucky will trust him – otherwise, Steve’ll die trying to get in the chip.

It’s never been a question about whether Steve trusts Bucky with his life or not, and calm washes over him once again as he walks forward towards Bucky. There’s a serene form of detachment that comes from the absolute sheer trust he has in Bucky even as Bucky looks at him in confusion. Steve want to comfort him.

“It’s alright, Bucky, I’m just putting the chip in. I’ll never leave you. I’m with you ‘till the end of the line,” Bucky’s stance relaxes as his eyes grow brighter with recognition, and Steve’s trust grows impossibly stronger. “And we’re not there yet.” 

Bucky steps aside slowly, as if he expects to be punished for it – and damn, if Steve’s hate for HYDRA doesn’t spiral up, up again – before going to Steve’s side as they walk towards the terminal. He looks at their hands when they brush, and Steve laces their fingers together as he slides the final chip into place. There’s a collective sigh of relief over the coms, then, but the mission isn’t over.

All that’s left is to destroy the Helicarriers so that HYDRA can never recover them, and it’s with that thought that Steve realizes something: there’s no way of getting off the Helicarrier safely. SHIELD’s air brigade had been blown to bits by Bucky and they’re too far from any building to leap, even with their strength, but the Helicarriers have to be destroyed now. 

The only way out is down. 

Steve meets Bucky’s blue, blue eyes and knows that Bucky has realized that too. His hand tightens around Steve even as they nod towards each other in mutual understanding, and Steve orders Hill to open fire, ignoring her pleas in the face of possibly losing millions. With nothing to lose, Steve wraps his arms around Bucky, holding him close before the end, and cries tears of joy and sorrow when Bucky slowly hugs him back. They stand like that even as the Helicarriers open fire and the world seems to collapse around them in flames, unwilling to let go.  
Steve feels the ground beneath them go, and they’re falling, falling, but this time together, so it’s alright. 

Bucky can survive the fall, Steve knows, even if his own thin frame would shatter, and it’s comforting, like a blanket. He closes his eyes and prepares himself for the impact, tucking his head into the crook of his neck. 

It feels like they’re back in Brooklyn again, all those years ago, Bucky holding him close to protect him against the cold of winter, and Steve can die happy. 

And then Steve feels the world shift, so he opens his eyes-

Bucky’s angled himself to hit the water for Steve, protecting him like the shield Steve dropped-

Steve tries to move but can’t-

Then they hit the water. Steve feels the impact but knows it’s nothing compared to what hit Bucky, who’s now sinking under the weight of his gear and his arm, dead to the world but still alive.

Steve grabs him as he struggles to keep his head above the waves and splashes of the burning remain of the Helicarriers falling into river. Bucky pulls him down, but Steve would let himself drown before he would let Bucky die, so he keeps swimming with Bucky in tow even as the water begins to flood his lungs with each breath he takes. Breathing hurts and Steve’s body aches and his vision is likely swimming more than he is, but he has to make it to shore for Bucky, so he pushes on.

And on. 

And on. 

And on until he reaches the shore and drags Bucky up, coughing up water before kneeling down to give CPR as best he can.

The world goes black soon after.

..........................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................

Steve wakes to the smell of antiseptic and the smooth, smooth sounds of Marvin Gaye. It’s probably the nicest awakening Steve’s had in this new world, made even better by when he turns his head and sees Sam in the chair beside him. Steve laughs.

“On your left.”

Sam laughs too – things are funny right now, which is surprising considering most drugs don’t affect him. They must’ve rigged something up, like Gabe had to back in the war for Bucky…

Bucky.

Oh God, _Bucky_. 

Steve’s panic must show on his face because Sam’s expression sinks and the Marvin Gaye stops. The beeping of the machines fills the silence between them as Steve thinks of what to ask and Sam, if Steve has to guess, thinks of what to explain.

Sam’s thought process must finish first because he pulls out his phone before Steve can open his mouth.

“I have a feeling I know what you’re gonna ask about, Steve, and it’s probably better than you think?”

Steve’s shoulders relax a little.

“Better?”

“Yeah. When we found you both on the shore, we couldn’t figure out why he was in such worse shape. Multiple agents on the ground had seen you both fall from the Helicarrier together, but that would mean that you would have been damaged more from the fall, which just didn’t match what we were seeing there.”

“Because it’s not what happened.”

“You weren’t awake to tell us that, and neither was he, so speculation was the best we had. Both of you were rushed here before the government caught up with what was happening.”

Sam’s tone means that it’s more than just the Helicarriers that they had to deal with.

“What happened?”

“Natasha dumped the entirety of SHIELD’s files and database of the web, full public access. Everything that HYDRA had done and plotted through SHIELD was released to public eyes, and they’ve been overwhelmed with the backlash since. Those files contained the names of multiple high-authority figures in government that worked for HYDRA, and it’s been a mess trying to weed them out while dealing with the aftermath of the Helicarrier clash and the onslaught of public outrage. Bucky was, surprisingly enough, not high enough on their priorities list to be dealt with just then.”

Sam pauses, but Steve waves for him to continue. He needs to know where Bucky is more than anything right now.

“So you were both rushed here like normal civilians until everyone realized that you weren’t. A nurse first recognized you both from videos of the fight on the highway, but then it dawned on them that that star on your chest was damn familiar. They weren’t sure what to do with two super-soldiers, so the best they could rig up was super-strength versions of the treatments that they had and called in the Avengers for help.

“About two days after they took you in, it was leaked that Sergeant Rogers and Captain Barnes were staying at the hospital, and by that time the same video that that nurse had seen had gone viral. When people found out that you two were alive, there was naturally some serious chaos, made even worse by the fact that someone put two and two together and linked Bucky with the files of the Winter Soldier that were put out with Natasha’s dump.”

Steve’s stomach sinks. There’s no way that, even with all that was happening in the government, that they didn’t see it fit to intervene. He and Bucky were too valuable of resources for that and apparently even incredibly controversial.

“So the government sent people.” Sam nods solemnly, but there’s a smile hiding in his expression.

“They tried. The great thing about being world-renowned, national icons and time-honored heroes is that the government can’t quite get to you like they can to others. They sent people in, yeah, but the public’s reaction was so extreme they had to pull back out for fear of sheer anarchy. By that time, Stark and Potts had pulled together a legal team to officially prevent them from doing anything once the issue cooled.

Steve is surprised, he’ll admit.

“Stark?” Zola had implied that Howard and Maria’s death was on Bucky, so if that’s in the files, then why? Sam manages to see that on his face too. 

“If this is about his parents, then yeah, that’s part of it – at least the public part. Stark put it out there that he’ll be damned if the government can do anything to Bucky before he gets a fair trial. His exact words, by the way.”

“Why would Tony even want Bucky to have a fair trial? You just said it yourself; Bucky killed Howard and Maria, and while I understand that Tony didn’t get on the best with Howard, it’s still…” he trails off.

“Surprising? Only a little. Stark may be bitter, but it’s overshadowed by the rest of Barnes’ files. They described his torture in detail, Steve, records of seventy years of experimentation and conditioning and what they called a mind wipe – they had a special chair that was essentially a combination of electroshock therapy and a lobotomy that wiped his memories off the map – and it’s hard to argue with that solid of evidence of duress. That’s what Stark’s legal team says, anyway, and I have a feeling that deep down, Stark knows that.”

Steve feels the strangest mix of ill and relieved – all seventy years of hell that Bucky went through are out there now for anyone to read, but that means that it’s nearly impossible to claim Bucky’s action were his own, for which Steve is immensely thankful. Now on to the more immediate worry.

“How is Bucky doing, anyway?” Steve both desperately want to hear the answer and doesn’t want to know at all. What if the legal team doesn’t matter because Bucky will never be okay again?

“He’s recovering. He hasn’t woken up yet, but the doctors say that’s to be expected and that he’ll probably wake up soon. He shouldn’t have survived that fall at all, so his injuries were awful, but he heals almost as quick as you do.” Steve’s still side-eyeing Sam, so Sam sighs.

“He’ll be fine, Steve, swear to you that the doctors said there are no serious complications. It’s gonna be a hell of a road to recovery, but that much is up to him and you.”

“Can I go see him.” It’s less of a question and more of a demand phrased politely, and Steve knows Sam knows this. Still, Sam holds his ground.

“Yeah, when you can walk again. Just because Barnes shielded you doesn’t mean you got off scot-free, Steve. You still have some healing to do too.”

Steve stares at him, obstinate, before deliberately sliding his feet out from under the covers and onto the floor. It takes a herculean amount of effort, but Steve’s sure as hell not backing down and Sam probably knows that. He needs to go see Bucky to make sure that none of this is some dream that his mind cooked up while he was falling from a train in the Alps. Sam seems to know that, too, and he calls for a wheelchair from a disapproving nurse, unceremoniously (yet gently) dumping Steve into the chair and attaching the IVs for the ride. 

The ride to Bucky’s room is too long, but they get there eventually, only being stopped once by the security outside of Bucky’s room – security in a hospital, oh Bucky – before Sam wheels Steve up to Bucky’s bed. 

Bucky’s lying there, still and serene but alive, and Steve lasts a whole thirty seconds before bursting into tears right there in front of Sam. Bucky looks so peaceful lying there in a way Steve hasn’t seen in years (decades), and Steve takes his hand and places it against his wet cheek. It’s warm.

Steve settles in there and talks for hours, Bucky’s flesh hand in his, about everything that Bucky’s missed over the years they’ve been apart. Although Bucky can’t hear him, it’s therapeutic, and he manages to convince Sam to wheel him the two days it takes before he can walk again.

On the fifth visit, Bucky’s awake when Steve walks in. He’s staring out the window, a thousand yards away, and the doctor tells him that he’s been like that since he had woken up last night. 

Steve settles into the chair in the corner as if he were visiting Bucky on any of the other days, and Bucky’s eyes slide across the room to him before filling with life. Bucky blinks, once, twice, as if he can’t believe Steve is there. 

“Steve?” Steve beams at him.

“Yeah, Buck, it’s me.”

“ _Steve_.” Bucky says again, voice breaking with emotion, and Steve rushes to Bucky immediately. Bucky’s hands fly up to his arms, holding on like if he lets go Steve will disappear, and Steve lets him, standing there and smiling joyfully down at Bucky. There are no words that day, just Bucky eventually pulling Steve close and refusing to let go until he falls asleep hours later. 

A few days pass in the same way, Bucky holding Steve close as if nothing else mattered. 

On the twelfth visit, Bucky asks Steve to tell him stories of their past. He tells Steve’s he’s been having dreams, fragments of a past life thrown together nonsensically, and slowly recovers facts about himself when Steve expands upon the random details he remembers and tells him stories of their lives together. 

By the twenty-third visit, Steve’s been released from the hospital and Bucky can walk again. Steve finds out when Bucky comes out of bed to hug him close in the doorframe instead. They don’t talk that day, but Steve knows that Bucky’s still going forward.

The day before Bucky is supposed to be released, Stark’s legal team manages to convince the courts that Bucky was a prisoner of war - something that Steve could and did attest to personally – and is officially declared not guilty of the assassinations that HYDRA tortured him into on the condition that they use a device Tony built to remove any leftover conditioning - technically, it’s to view and alter memories, but it does its job nonetheless.

Steve doesn’t think Bucky’s quite ready to live with Tony quite yet, so they stay in his original little Brooklyn brownstone that he was assigned all those years ago despite Stark’s invitation to the Tower. The two times they met with Stark may have ended fruitfully – everything dangerous about Bucky’s arm that could be fixed without replacement is gone and so are the triggers – but it was tense with unspoken emotion, and Steve’s not sure if Bucky’s ready to handle that quite yet. 

Together (and with the help of a PTSD and trauma specialist that Sam tracked down), Bucky grows to be himself again. He’s undeniably changed from the original suave Brooklyn heartthrob Steve fell in love with, but Bucky is Bucky, and Steve will love him no matter his personality and habits. Besides, Steve’s changed too; they fit just as well together now as they did then, despite their jagged edges. 

Nearly a year and a half after the Helicarrier incident, they’re ready to move back into Steve’s floor onto the tower. The Avengers welcome Bucky at their own pace; Thor almost immediately, then Clint and Bruce, then Natasha, then even Tony, though the last two take years for full trust. During that time, Bucky declares himself ready to be romantic with Steve again, and they kiss for the first time since before the train mission in 1945.

Their lips together feel like a happy ending.

**Author's Note:**

> So that's a wrap! This is the first finished fanfic I've ever put out, so please have mercy :)
> 
> Art is by Cryo_Bucky. Their art is just flat incredible, so [check them out!](https://cryo-bucky.tumblr.com/)
> 
> While this was beta'd, they've been busy, so any errors still in there? Let me know. Glaring plotholes? Let me know.
> 
> Also aou, cw, and iw are all fake and I refuse to acknowledge their existence thank you very very much


End file.
